Blue Heaven
by Spruceton Spook
Summary: 3rd Installment to Stars Fell on Pallet Town! While Delia and Jay further strengthen their marriage, Ash and Misty are only discovering what being a couple really means. But can they prove to hesitant Delia they can do this? Complete!
1. Chaotic Plans and Set Dates

**Blue Heaven**

By Spruceton Spook

Part 1

Chaotic Plans and Set Dates

"All right, all right, shush, shush, _shush_!"

For the umpteenth time that afternoon, Ash, Misty, and Brock promptly shut their mouths and sat back against the couch. Crossing their arms over their chests, they each exchanged frivolous smiles, and glanced back over across the coffee table. There sat Delia, hunched over the table and chewing a pen in her teeth, looking rather tired, staring down at the note-scribbled paper before her. Right beside her was Jay, who sported the same silly grin with just a hint of shrewdness. 

It sure was an amusing scene, but by this time, it was a common one in the Ketchum residence. In a very short time, Delia realized what a task it was discussing and trying to make plans with three energetic kids and her even more capricious husband, but on the contrary, Ash and the others pleasured in how fun it could be. The sessions sure proved their worth, both in formulating sturdy ideas for the fast-approaching and anticipated event, and by creating a entertaining time for the five of them. And this time was no exception.

"Okay, I can't take that many ideas at once, guys," Delia sighed. The three kids snickered as she picked up the paper and studied it briefly, trying to make sense of the mess of proposals. Her eyes rose to them, and more directly to Ash.

Ash shrugged at her look. "You wanted suggestions! We're giving them!" he grinned radically.

"Yes, but how about one at a time?" his mom requested in reply, smiling haggardly.

"Well, we're talking about food here, Del," Jay pointed out. "You expect these three to tell you what they want in a calm manner?"

He motioned toward the three enlivened kids, who beamed from his clearly truthful assumption. 

"Well, _I_ can suggest things in a calm manner," Misty said, arching her shoulders proudly. "It's just little mister glutton here who can't think of something appropriate to have at a reception."

Togepi squealed agreeably on her lap, waving his little arms about as Ash narrowed his eyes at Misty.

"Hey!" he shouted insultingly. "What's wrong with having cocktail wieners at the party? Huh? What's wrong with that?"

Brock stifled a giggle as Misty stared rigidly into his face. "Because it's not elegant, that's why!"

"Who cares about elegant, it's fun!" Ash retorted, staring her down just as firmly.

"Weddings are supposed to be elegant, too!" Misty argued.

"Says who?"

Jay proceeded to roll his eyes, while Delia sat waiting, busying herself momentarily by doodling squiggles on the top of her paper.

"Okay guys, chill out!" Brock said, getting between the two and restraining them. "I'm sure we can come to some agreement."

Ash and Misty gave each other one more harrowing look before tossing their heads the opposite way, huffing. Brock slumped, giving Jay and Delia a small smirk.

"It's your call," he laughed.

Delia took a deep, pacifying breath. "Ash, sweetheart, if that's what you want, then we can have them."

Ash's disdainful look immediately brightened. "Really?"

His mother nodded, writing it down on the paper. She laughed quietly. "Besides, I know your father wants them, too."

Jay's eyes rose and he quickly held out his hands defensively. "Hey, you said it, I didn't!"

Delia smiled, tilting her head towards Misty. "It's fine with me if Ash wants the mini hot dogs, Misty," she told her. "What do you want?"

Misty straightened herself comfortably and glanced elsewhere. "Well," she said, recovering effortlessly from the squabble with Ash—the one of many. Her face lightened hopefully. "I said I like shrimp!"

"Oh, yeah," Delia replied, giving Jay a nudge. "Shrimp cocktail! That's always nice to have!"

Her husband shrugged, "Whatever. Don't matter to me." He gave Ash a sneaky wink. "As long as we get to have the wieners."

"Hehe!" Ash smiled and reached forward to slap him a high five. 

Misty scowled, but seeing Ash's happy, buoyant disposition made it fade swiftly. He was having fun with this, and rightfully so. It wasn't every day that you got to help prepare for your parents' second wedding reception, and Ash was having a ball taking advantage of it. If only he had better tastes in food, though.

"Okay, okay, so we got some ideas for appetizers," Delia said. "There's always time to think of more. We have start thinking about the dinner, though. That's a lot more important than the snacks."

The sound of the main course pricked the ears of Jay and the kids instantly. Thinking about the appetizers and drinks had temporarily taken their minds off what delectable course was to be served, and rapidly their ideas sprang right from their heads to their tongues.

"I want chicken cordon bleu!" Misty chimed. "That's so delicious!"

"No, no, corned beef!" Ash cried, hopping up and down in place and unsettling Pikachu. 

"I ate pot roast once at a wedding," Brock said, just as loudly as the other two. "That seemed to be a hit."

Ash immediately turned at him. "Yeah, but more people liked corned beef!" he said. "And besides, Mom's place makes that so good!"

"Yeah, but that's a lot of work, corned beef," Misty observed. She turned to Delia. "Isn't it?"

Delia half-shrugged. "Well—"

"It's not a lot of work!" Ash interjected. He, too, turned to his mother. "Mom, everyone loves your corned beef! You can make it with the potatoes and the cabbage—"

"Hey, we can have potatoes with pot roast, too!" Brock put in. His mouth watered as the thought of his suggestion broadened. 

Misty suddenly grimaced. "Brock, I don't _want_ pot roast! It gets so dry sometimes!"

"Oh, and chicken cordon bleu _doesn't_?" Brock retorted.

"Yeah, and my mom's place doesn't even make chicken cordon bleu, Misty!" Ash challenged.

Misty growled at him. "Well, they can this time!"

Ash had a lovely rejoinder to add to the disagreement, and thus the start of yet another dispute commenced. Delia dumped her head in her hands, wondering what she was could have possibly been thinking when she consulted the kids for help. Even though she and Jay ultimately had the final say in what was to take place on the day of their wedding vow renewals, an event the two had decided on quite suddenly about three weeks before, it seemed that the kids took every preparation more seriously than she did.

However, as the debate shot back and forth, each proclamation louder than the last, Delia groaned loudly and slammed her hand down on the coffee table.

"Okay, that's it!" she shouted, instantly hushing the kids. "Out, all of you! Outside!"

Ash smiled weakly. "Aw, c'mon, Mom! We're discussing this!"

"No, you aren't discussing it, you're _fighting_ about it," Delia begged to differ. "Sorry, but you guys have too much energy. Go outside and use it all up; we can talk more about it later."

"But I want to talk about it now!" Ash whined.

"Ash!" his mother growled, narrowing her eyes at him. 

Ash narrowed his right back at her, knowing she wasn't mad, just overwhelmed. He had to admit that he, Misty, and Brock had entirely different views for the reception, but he figured lots of ideas were better than too few. Obviously, she didn't think similarly, but seeing as how they had now quieted, perhaps she would reconsider. After all, he enjoyed the planning. It was a new project in his life, temporarily taking his mind off Pokémon training, which he had hoped. Taking a break from his journey wasn't an easy task, but the excitement over his parents' up-and-coming vow renewal was just enough to do the job.

That wasn't going to be the case now, though. 

"Out," Delia commanded in a whisper, pointing at the door. She had a light air about her, but nevertheless Ash got up begrudgingly, snubbing as he escorted himself out. Almost as if his shadow was a second late, Misty bounced up from the couch and followed right behind, giving Jay and Delia a modest, farewell smile.

Jay sighed and stretched on the couch, almost relieved that his overactive son was gone for a moment. He, as did Delia, knew how much Ash wanted to get involved with the reception plans, but at some times it did get quite out of hand.

Brock watched as the door closed tightly behind Misty before flipping around on the couch again, smiling brightly at Jay and Delia. He looked positively enthralled.

"So where were we?" he said, slapping his knees contentedly.

Delia and Jay's eyes rose in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Delia exclaimed. "Out! You too!"

"Me?" Brock gasped, shocked. "Oh, c'mon, I won't bother you! I wanna help!"

Delia had to smile at Brock's enthusiasm. If there was someone more excited about the event more than Ash it was Brock. The boy had helped consistently since the moment she and Jay had announced it, eager to do whatever they wished and discuss whatever there was to be discussed. However, she was too swamped to deal with anyone right now. She was two seconds away from even kicking Jay out.

"Brock, you've helped enough today," she told him. "Go on, go out and have fun with Ash and Misty."

Brock's jaw dropped disappointingly. "Oh, Mrs. Ketchum, I love doing this stuff, it's so much fun! C'mon, what do you want me to do for you? I'll do anything! Really, you name it!"

Jay chuckled quietly as Delia smiled. "Honey, you've done enough already!" she said sweetly. "You sent out all the invitations, you came with me to order the flowers . . . you even went to the mall with me when I went looking for a dress!"

Brock nodded energetically. "I know! But I want to do more! What do you need? There must be something! Hey, what about the pictures? Want me to hire the photographer for you?" 

"Brock—"

Brock jumped to his feet. "Do you need me to make the reservations for you at the Cerulean Plaza Hotel?"

"We already have reservations!" Jay laughed.

"Want me to confirm them?"

"_Brock!_" Delia leapt to her feet and pointed strenuously at the front door. "Listen to me, I love you for all you're doing for us, but I swear, if you don't get out that door right this instant, you're gonna be sorry!"

Sweatdropping, Brock's face fell. "All right," he mumbled, receiving a gracious and tender smile from Delia. 

"Thanks, sweetheart," she said softly. "No, really though, you're great for wanting to help so much. I really appreciate it, but right now, I gotta relax a bit."

Brock nodded understandably. "Gotcha. I'll get out of your hair."

"Yeah, go see what the other two nutcases are up to," Jay smiled. "I'm sure they've killed each other by now."

Brock grinned passively. "Hehe, yeah." He turned around slightly and looked out the patio windows, a rather sheepish look taking over his face.

Delia plopped into the loveseat beside Jay, who put his arm around her shoulder. He squeezed her lovingly, throwing a glance back up to Brock, who had yet to make his way out the door. Taking notice of his pensive look, his brow furrowed with puzzlement.

"What's the matter?" he asked, immediately grabbing Brock's attention.

"Oh, nothing," Brock replied, looking back out the door again. 

"You're not leaving," Delia sang a bit impatiently. She went back to chewing on her pen again.

Brock cringed slightly at this, shrugging. Jay and Delia looked quite irked now, baffled at Brock's sudden hesitation. 

"Why, don't you want to go out to find Ash and Misty?" Jay asked.

"I . . . I dunno," Brock replied, his voice wavering. Seeing their confused looks become even more so, he slumped. "It's just that . . . well . . ." It was hard explaining what he felt about the vibe he picked up from Ash and Misty during the last few weeks. It was too weird for him to even grasp—to _believe_, for that matter.

"Well, what?" Delia said.

"Ever since they've become . . . you know . . . _friendlier _with each other," Brock said, biting down on his lip, "I . . . I don't know, I feel weird going after them. Especially when they're alone . . . I don't want them to think I'm . . . nosy, or something."

Right away, Jay and Delia smiled in comprehension. Brock blinked gently at their reactions, completely expected. Silence took over the room briefly, all thoughts focused on Ash and Misty. Not that it wasn't the first time . . . ever since the two kids had shown a sudden interest in each other, everyone was becoming slowly aware of it. The holding of hands, the extended time spent with each other, the more cordial interaction—there was no doubt in their minds that something was blossoming between the two. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and for Brock, it was an rather odd change.

"Oh Brock," Delia said affably, "that's ridiculous."

"Yeah," Jay said. "I'm sure they don't think that at all."

Brock looked down at their amiable grins and did the same. He knew it sounded a little absurd, but it didn't shake how he felt. 

"I mean, they're still your friends," Jay said easily, motioning towards the door. "Trust me, they're probably wondering where you are right now."

_Yeah, but maybe they aren't_, Brock thought, grinding his teeth. He wanted to shut the thought out of his mind, but it was one that came reluctantly to his consciousness. Being with them was one thing, but when the two went off on their own, Brock didn't know what to do. Knowing well that Ash and Misty appreciated their time together a lot more than ever, following them around had come to feel awkward. 

"Yeah," he answered anyway, the still wary smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, y-you're right. But . . . it's just . . . different, that's all." He laughed shortly and shrugged. "I've never seen Ash and Misty like this before. I'm . . . I'm kinda afraid of what I might find them doing."

Delia, who was beginning to finally relax from the afternoon ruckus, suddenly gave Brock an indecisive look. "What?" she exclaimed. "What do you mean? What've they been doing?"

Brock cringed, mentally taking back what he had just said. The expression of pure concern washing over Delia's face made him answer hastily. 

"Oh, I—I don't know," he stammered. "Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?" Delia sat forward and tilted her head, her voice growing louder and eyes widening. "No, what have they been doing?"

"Nothing!" Brock repeated honestly. Great, now what had he done? He truly had not seen Ash and Misty do anything out of the ordinary for the two, minus the holding hands, which had become pretty normal in the past weeks. But Delia and Jay knew about that, and Brock realized the worry he had suddenly created.

"Nothing?" Jay said. 

"Brock, what have they been doing?" Delia asked once asked, her voice wobbling slightly. She gave him a steady glare, the apprehension over this new attitude of Brock's eager to be relieved. 

Brock straightened himself immediately and gave them an earnest look. "Mrs. Ketchum, don't worry. I haven't seen them do anything," he said clearly. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean it that way. Just . . . you know, holding hands and hugging and stuff. That—that's what I meant."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her eyes squinting anxiously. 

"Positive," Brock replied, giving her a toothy smile. 

Delia paused for a moment before leaning back again, blinking. _Phew! _Brock reclined as her look softened, glad he wasn't put on the spot to fully explain what he had meant. He hadn't meant to worry them, but that didn't take away his slight fear. He still wasn't ready to go and find Ash and Misty. 

Delia, on the other hand, couldn't get what Brock said out of her mind. She didn't need him scaring her that way, especially since the new interest Ash had taken in Misty wasn't entirely settling well within her. It was cute, she had to admit that, but concerns such as the one Brock brought up came back to preoccupy her ever so often. Thoughts of how close Ash and Misty were becoming was a bit hard to concede to, and once in a while, Delia wondered what her boy could possibly be up to.

Yet she trusted Brock. Looking back up at him again, smiling promisingly as he was, she felt much better. 

"Okay, then," she said. "But . . ."

Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Yeah?"

Wincing, Delia gave him an imploring look. "Could you . . . could you just look out for them? You know, make sure they're not doing anything . . . I wouldn't approve of?"

"Oh, Delia," Jay groaned all of a sudden, giving her a soft shake. "Don't think that. They're not doing anything wrong."

"Yeah, but . . ." she slumped. "But still, just in case. It—it worries me." 

"I don't think we have anything to worry about," Jay replied truthfully, having all faith in his assurance. He looked at Brock. "Aren't I right, Brock?"

Brock gave him a guaranteed look. "Of course! They're fine."

Jay nodded. "Then go out there and fine them, will you?"

Happy to hear that, Brock took no hesitation in dashing out the door and into the sunlight. Jay smiled as he went, giving his wife a gentle nudge as soon as he was gone.

"You okay?" he asked her tenderly.

Delia startled as she was brought out of her thoughts, lifting her head to look into his eyes. "Sure," she replied softly.

"Are you really that concerned about Ash and Misty?"

Delia went to reply but wavered, fiddling around with her fingers. 

"I . . . I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe a little bit. Brock kinda . . . scared me there a little."

Jay chuckled, bringing her close to him. He took the pen out of her hand and set it down on the table, happy to rid her of it for a minute. She was relentless about taking a break from the planning, and he hated to see her so deluged with burden.

"Well, don't you worry now," he said, patting her knee. "Ash and Misty are fine. And if they aren't . . ." He gave her cheek a quick kiss. " . . . Brock will be there to snap them back to reality."

Delia swallowed and shut her eyes, resting her head against Jay's warm shoulder. She didn't reply, knowing he was probably right. She trusted Brock, but she trusted Ash and Misty, too. Surely they weren't doing anything that denoted Brock's fears—they were fine! Yeah, of course they were, Delia convinced herself in that second, alleviating her trembling nerves. They had to be . . . after all . . . what could they possibly be doing wrong _anyway_ . . . ?

* * *

Ash romped out of his house and into the bright, hot sunlight, Pikachu charging right behind. With a bounding leap, the Pokémon was on his shoulder, grasping hold of Ash's hat and ears pricking. He could feel the energy in Ash, the hyperness. Ash was certainly on his toes, the release into the outdoors rushing through his veins.

Despite his gruff exit, a laugh resounded from Ash's lungs, just a fraction of the energy that was frantic to escape his body. His head snapped around as another laugh echoed his own, one higher-pitched, more feminine, and all too familiar.

"Wait up for me!" Misty shouted gleefully, her ponytail flying about as she sprinting towards him, rushing to catch up with him. A smile spread happily across her face, which Ash matched in an instant. The entire ordeal over their food disagreement vanished instantly, replaced with the simple fact that they were outside, together, and a bundle of energetic nerves. 

"I'm waiting, I'm waiting," Ash groaned jokingly, sticking his tongue out as she reached his side. Almost instinctively, their hands linked together, and the two beamed at each other.

Misty was out of breath from her short dash, but not enough for her to continue to laugh. "What are you doing rushing out without me?"

Ash shrugged crazily. "Hey, Mom wanted me out. So I got out."

Misty sighed and rolled her eyes, nudging herself into him to get him walking. "Whatever. Come, let's walk."

"Okay."

The two started down the road, hand in hand, their smiles hardly fading. The soft breezes blew around them, the stable hum of daytime crickets rang in the distance. The heat and humidity surrounded them, but they paid no mind to it, their bodies intermittently bumping into each other. 

"So what are we gonna do now that we're kicked out of the house?" Misty chuckled, smiling broadly into Ash's face.

He swung her arm back and forth. "Dunno. Not much to do but walk, I guess."

"That's fine for me," Misty said giddily, taking a quick hop. "But where do you wanna go?"

"Mmmm . . . hideaway?"

Misty gave his leg a rapid, but gentle, kick. "Yeah, right!"

Ash laughed, knowing exactly how Misty felt about his grimy hangout. He had no intentions of going there anyway. Looking up at the clear blue sky and puffy clouds, he was just content walking. Squeezing her hand tightly, he rethought that. He wasn't just happy to walk . . . he was happy to be walking with her. 

"Nah, we won't go there," he said in a relieving tone. "We'll go . . . wherever."

"Okay. Sounds good to me."

Ash and Misty took simultaneous deep breaths, taking in the fresh, country air. They said not a word as they sauntered down the road, feeling the gravel under their feet and sun on their faces. Staring off at the swaying long grasses and mountains, the two were perfectly delighted. Their active gait gradually slowed to one more relishing. Their bodies melted with the familiar feeling that they had been experiencing lately, the one both were fully aware of but were still astonished with. It was like none other.

"So . . ." Misty started. "This vow renewal stuff is quite a project, huh?"

"Yeah," Ash nodded, the thought of his parent's second wedding ceremony springing to his mind blissfully. "But it's gonna be so much fun."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," Misty replied. "If the aggravation doesn't kill your mom first, though."

Chuckling softly, Ash said, "Ah, don't worry about her. She's a perfectionist. Believe me, she might be totally crazy now, but you watch—that reception's gonna be perfect."

"Ooh, I can't wait," Misty gushed, glancing off into the sky. She sighed zestfully. "It's going to be some romantic . . . your mom and dad getting married all over again, professing their love for each other . . ."

"And the party afterwards," Ash added, receiving a harmless glare from Misty. He flashed her a guileful grin, letting her know he was kidding. Although the party did excite him, the thought of his parents vowing their love for each other before his eyes was something too extraordinary for him to believe. 

Misty's glare lightened. "Well, you know what's gonna be best about all of it?" she asked, batting her blue eyes at him.

"What?"

"I get to spend the whole thing with you," she whispered in reply.

A blush streaking across the bridge of his nose, Ash looked bashfully at the ground. Misty smiled, loving the way he still reacted to the things she told him. Although it had been three weeks since their feelings had started to surface, each statement and action that signified their newfound exclusiveness was still a bit uncanny. They knew how they felt about each other, but letting each other know about it still induced blushes and nervous giggles. Ash succumbed more often to this, but Misty knew he was adjusting. In the meantime, she charmed in his modest responses.

Ash didn't reply to this, but Misty didn't need one. They just locked eyes and smiled, which was enough for both of them. Ash glanced away, taking notice of a shady tree just yonder. Already craving its relief from the sun, he gently tugged Misty to it.

"Come on, let's sit."

Ash plopped onto the grass and Misty followed right behind. She laughed as she nearly tripped, but Ash caught her and helped her down. Rolling her eyes at herself, the two began to laugh as Pikachu and Togepi bolted off to frolic through the grass and away from their flighty trainers.

"Wow, that feels so much better," Misty commented, shaking her head. 

Ash nodded. "Sure does. I can't wait for this heat to break."

"I bet it'll probably cool off right for your parents' wedding," Misty predicted.

"Yeah, wouldn't that be great?"

"Oh, I already know it," Misty replied. "It's gonna be perfect—sunny and warm without a cloud in the sky, with just the most pleasant breeze."

Ash's cocked his eye. "You know that?"

"Mm-hmm," Misty nodded confidently. "How could it be anything else?"

Ash smiled, resting his back against the trunk of the tree. He closed his eyes peacefully, but opened one of them right after as he felt Misty inch her way closer to him. Without a word, she lay beside him, letting her head fall comfortably on his shoulder. Ash's body tensed for a moment, not knowing what to do. He didn't hate this—barely. He liked it—liked it a lot—but when it came to what he was supposed to do, he froze. 

_Well, you gotta do something!_ he told himself. Curling his fingers nervously, he lifted his arm shakily and draped it over Misty's shoulder. She nuzzled closer as he did this, making him cringe ever so slightly, but as each second passed by (which Ash felt _every_ one of), his body loosened, reclined. Her silky hair brushed against his face, tickling him slenderly, but he liked this. This wasn't bad at all. 

But what did it mean? The question ran through Ash's mind more often than ever the past few days. He was unable to get it out of his head, to answer it. It wracked him ceaselessly, taunting him in a sense. It was all so new and different, and even though Ash knew he enjoyed it, what went behind it all was something he had yet to discover.

Of course, finding that out from Misty was something he couldn't do. Ash knew very well that Misty was aware of what everything meant. He could sense it in the way she lacked the nervousness and anxiety he did, the way she basked in every moment between them without a worry in the world. But him? Ash didn't exactly understand why he couldn't do the same, and how could he tell that to Misty? Biting at his lip, he quivered at the thought of it.

_But you're torturing yourself over it_, he told himself. _Just . . . just ask . . . _

Ash cleared this from his mind as he took a deep breath and looked off at the mountains. Who was he kidding? He had to do it, he had to bring it up. But right this _second_? He could wait, he supposed . . .

Misty yawned, sounding so serene and happy. And here he was, breaking into a sweat and trying hard to calm his tightening nerves. Ash knew he couldn't go through this much longer, he just couldn't. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad time.

Taking hold of himself, Ash cleared his throat, shaking his body just a bit more than he wished. Misty jerked off of him, and looked sleepily into his face.

"What's wrong?" 

"Hmm? What?" Ash asked, acting startled. He quickly smiled and scratched the back of his head. "Oh, nothing. I . . . nothing."

Slowly, a sly smile pulled at Misty's lips. "No, what? You want to say something!"

How did she know? Oh wait, he wanted her to know he wanted to say something. Now he was even confusing himself. How was he possibly going to do this?

Ash felt his heart rate increase even more. He laughed nervously under his breath as he stared into Misty's imploring eyes, swallowing hard. She was curious, but her smile was still gentle and encouraging.

_Well, here goes nothing . . ._

"Misty, what—?" _Go on, ask it!_ "What . . . what are we?"

Misty's eyes suddenly widened, and she pulled back slightly. Ash's body stiffened instantly, wondering what he just did.

"What . . . what do you mean, Ash?" she asked inaudibly.

Ash looked down and away. He asked it and yet the question still wasn't asked. He could feel her eyes on him, making him more apprehensive by the second. 

"You know," he replied, almost in a whisper. "What are we? Me . . . me and you?"

Misty's eyes rose once more. The smile fell for a moment, but as she and Ash stared at each other, it slowly returned, accompanied by a short laugh. Now she got it, and Ash trembled as she realized it.

"Well . . . what do you think?" she asked, the smile broadening into a grin. 

"Huh?" Ash gasped.

"What do _you _think we are?"

Ash shook. "I—I dunno," he replied hastily, wondering how this suddenly came back to him. He began to panic. 

"Well, you must think _something_," Misty laughed.

Ash's brow furrowed. "But . . . but I'm asking you!"

"Yeah, and I'm asking you!" Misty retorted.

Suddenly, Ash narrowed his eyes. "But I asked you first!"

"I wanna hear what you think, though," she said.

Ash growled, but hearing her capricious laugh made him stop right away. She was teasing him—how wonderful. Ash didn't need teasing right now. The way his blood was rushing through his body and overheating his face proved that. And yet her gentle face pressed him, made him grit his teeth and turn away slightly.

"Ash? What do you think we are?" she asked again, her voice flowing. She leaned forward and looked into his shimmering brown eyes.

"I . . ." He took a deep breath, clutching his fists to stop his trembling. Here went nothing. "I . . . I think we're . . ." He cringed. "Boyfriend an-and girlfriend?"

With that, Misty blushed furiously, turning away swiftly. Seeing her reddened face made Ash flush as well, the awkward feeling skyrocketing between them. He couldn't believe he had said that, admitted what he was afraid to say the most. 

Misty turned back, brushing her bangs absentmindedly away from her eyes. "I . . . I think the same thing, Ash," she said, making his face light up with surprise.

"You—you do?"

"Uh-huh," Misty replied, laughing. "Sure I do!"

"You . . . you mean we . . . are?"

Misty shrugged, feeling her body lift positively. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't we be?"

Ash's jaw dropped further than he could imagine. What started as an inner, inquisitive thought had developed into something more amazing . . . the truth. Ash wasn't sure if he was ready to accept it.

"Well . . . I don't know," he said, still blushing. "I . . . I wasn't completely sure."

"Why not?" Misty asked, tilting her head.

"Because . . ." Ash replied honestly. "I . . . I thought being boyfriend and girlfriend meant you, you know . . . went out on dates and . . . k-k-kissed and all."

His cheeks turned even more pink as he mentioned two things that neither of them had even spoke about, much less attempted. But thankfully, Misty was still smiling, not affected at all by this assertion. 

"It doesn't mean just that," she said, her heart pounding as his eyes glistened. "It means doing what we're doing: spending a lot of time together, holding hands . . . not having an interest in anyone else."

A short giggle of relief escaped Ash. "R-really?"

"Yeah!" she replied. 

Ash licked his lips. "I . . . I like doing those things. A lot."

Misty beamed. "I do, too."

They fell into silence at that, fully absorbing the marvelous effect of their new discovery. It was amazing how wonderful they both felt, how different. Misty's stomach clenched excitedly while Ash felt himself becoming warm, melting with the pleasurable feeling of dread lifting and absolute happiness setting in. 

"But," Misty said, breaking the quiet, "I . . . I would like to do more, though."

Ash's heart lurched. "Like—like what?"

Misty grinned secretly, biting her lip. "Like a date?"

Ash's eyes widened. "A-a date?"

Misty nodded, and slowly Ash's stunned look developed into an immense smile. This he could do!

"Well . . . then we'll plan one out, then."

Misty couldn't have heard a more perfect sentence coming from him. A _date_? Ash was in disbelief that he had said it, but as Misty leaned in and wrapped her arms around his shoulders strongly, all worries dissolved. He embraced her back, snuggling into the crook her neck and taking in her refreshing and familiar scent. He loved to hug Misty. There was no doubt about that in Ash's mind. They didn't do it much, which simply made each time more and more special. It was something that he swore he could adjust to, and never get tired of. 

"Hel—loooo!" 

But maybe _that_ wasn't going to be so easy to get used to. Ash and Misty's heads abruptly yanked up, turning rapidly to the sound of their friend's voice. Brock stood about ten feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head at the two kids.

"Brock!" Misty scolded. "Don't sneak up on us like that!"

"Well, be a little more attentive," he said, winking. 

Ash and Misty slumped, exchanging a quick smile between each other.

"Come on, you two. G'up!" Brock said whimsically, motioning them wildly to stand. 

Ash and Misty obeyed and rose, scooping up their Pokémon with sneaky little grins and joining hands. The recollection of what had just occurred between them was fresh in their minds, stirring them ecstatically. Things were going to be a bit different now.

Brock turned around, took a look at their entwined hands and sweeping smiles, and sighed. How he couldn't get over that! It was only an image he held in his wildest and craziest imagination, and yet here it was, right before him. Ash and Misty—together. Holding hands. _Hugging_. It swarmed him, and he shook his head, giving them the most sincere look of amazement. 

"Aww," Misty cooed, taking light of the moment. "Do you feel left out, Brock?"

"What? No," Brock mumbled, playfully jutting out his lower lip. He held back a spontaneous laugh.

Misty giggled. "Ah, come here, you!" she said, dragging Ash up to Brock. Settling Togepi onto her shoulder, she seized Brock's hand with her own, giving him a silly smile. Ash chortled as the three began to the make their way back to the house, hand-in-hand. Brock just shook his head yet again.

"Um, you do realize that if anyone sees us like this, we'll have to move far, _far_ away from here," he said, causing the other two to erupt into giddy, boisterous laughter.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

_Wow, I can't believe I'm back and doing this again! I've missed writing this series so bad, couldn't resist, so here you have it: the third and final installment of "Stars Fell on Pallet Town." It's long, it's juicy, and it's jam-packed with twerpshippy funness for all you good people! Just in time for the holidays, huh? Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it, and if you liked the first two, you'll love this one, I guarantee! Next part Friday, as usual. More romance, fun, Ash cuteness, and . . . drama . . . to come! Ooooh! Till next time!_


	2. Hesitance

**Blue Heaven**

By Spruceton Spook

Part 2

Hesitance

It had only been a half an hour since the kids were kicked out of the house—barely. Still, they made their way leisurely home, holding hands, gabbing about how "productive" the reception planning was going. This wasn't entirely a joke; although there was quite a bit of bickering, much had already been decided on unquestionably. The food was going to be the toughest to agree on, but Ash, Misty, and Brock knew that no matter what was to be selected, it was going to be one heck of a meal. Nothing short of delicious was ever expected from Delia's restaurant, that was for sure. 

They were surprised to see Jay sitting out on the front stoop upon their return. Ash found it hard not to smile.

"Mom kick you out, too?" he assumed. The three stopped before him, paying no regard to the fact that their hands were still joined.

Jay simply arched his eyebrows and let out a chuckle at the odd sight before him. "Um, hehe, no. But what—what is this?"

Their eyes widening, the three looked down at their hands and giggled. 

"I knew you guys were good friends, but . . ." Jay said hesitantly, leaning away from them.

"Oh, Brock just felt lonely," Misty explained, blushing as Brock jiggled her hand and let go. 

Jay laughed and shook his head. "Geez. Well, better look out for your girl, Ash," he said, winking at his son. "Don't know whose hand she'll be holding next!"

Ash shut his eyes embarrassingly. "Yeah." He turned to Misty. "Come on, let's go out back," he suggesting, and the two were off in an instant, leaving Brock smirking gently at Jay.

"So . . . what were those two up to?" he asked, a glint of slyness in his eye.

Brock smiled. "Oh, nothing," he replied. Taking into mind Jay's witty sense of humor, something that was always fun to play around with, he sighed, "Just harmless stuff—ripping off each other's clothes, sharing some tongue . . ."

"Aaaaah, I see," Jay nodded and smiled, joking along. "Good stuff."

Brock gave him an appealing look. "Ooh, yeah."

The two broke out into vigorous laughter, applauding their clever banter. It lasted for only a moment, however, before Delia burst out the door, grabbing Brock forcefully by the arm, and yanking him into the house.

"Hey! Wha—?" Brock yelped as she dragged him in. She abruptly halted and held him before her, glaring anxiously at him.

"Tell me! What were they doing? Were they really doing that?" she frantically asked, the whites of her eyes flaring. 

Brock faltered, disoriented. "Wh-what? No, no! They weren't!"

Delia shook him, a look of pure distress seizing her face. "Brock, please tell me!" she insisted. "What were they doing?"

"Delia, calm down!" Jay laughed, coming to help Brock out of her tight, nervous hold. "It's okay, he was kidding!"

"Yeah, I was just kidding!" Brock repeated briskly. 

Squeezing his arms, Delia gulped softly. "Yeah, but what were they doing?" she demanded. "Please tell me, Brock!"

Catching his breath from the sudden action, Brock put on an promising face. "They weren't doing anything bad," he told her, tugging at her arms tenderly to get her to loosen her grip on him. "They were sitting and talking and holding hands."

Delia took deep breaths. "Really? That's all?"

Brock smiled. "That's all they were doing."

Finally letting go of him, Delia produced a weak smile. She brushed some hair out of her face, which was just a faint shade of pink.

"I'm sorry. It's just . . ." She chuckled, her voice cracking a bit. "Don't say stuff like that, Brock. About them . . . sharing tongue and stuff."

"I was just playing around," Brock sweatdropped, grinning at Jay. "I don't think I'll ever see Ash and Misty doing those things." 

Delia smiled and looked down, wishing with all her might the equivalent. "So they weren't doing anything . . . that they shouldn't be doing?"

"Those two aren't going _anywhere_," Brock continued, hoping to make her feel even more confident. "Heh, you should see them! There's practically two feet between them when they hug even! Trust me, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Ketchum. They're fine."

Delia had to admit she felt a whole lot better after hearing that. Even though she figured the things Brock was saying were unbelievable, she had to make sure. But this was Brock after all—he wouldn't lie to her, but she wasn't momentarily crazy about his sense of humor.

"Well, I believe you," she said sincerely, patting his shoulder. "But you'll still do what I asked, right? You'll watch out for them?"

Brock grinned happily. He loved how Delia trusted and relied on him so much. It flattered him that she put so much faith in him, and he had absolutely no intentions of ever letting her down.

"Of course I will," he said, sticking out his pinky, which she playfully roped with her own. 

"Thanks, Brock," she smiled. "Go on, get outta here."

Brock slid past them and headed for the backyard. As the door slammed shut behind him, Delia sighed and shuffled into the kitchen. Jay watched her conscientiously before following languidly behind.

"Hey," he whispered. She stopped and turned, raising her eyes in reply. Taking notice of her husband's inquiring gaze, she squinted confusingly.

"What's the matter with you all of a sudden?" he asked tenderly. "That's the second time today you went all crazy over Ash and Misty."

Delia flinched, looking away. "Oh."

"What's the matter? Are you really that concerned about them?" Jay asked, folding his arms around himself. He was honestly curious about her rash behavior towards the two kids. He knew that Delia was aware that Ash and Misty were slowly passing the just-friends stage; it was way too obvious. But it wasn't as if she had shown any objection towards it, no more than sneaking a quick look whenever they were with each other. Now that she had practically gone mad over it twice that day, he was starting to wonder if she didn't want to be as quiet about it as she had been.

"Well . . ." she started, lingering on the word as she stared into Jay's expectant eyes. "It's not that I am—I really shouldn't be. I know Ash and Misty are fine together, they're not doing anything wrong . . ."

"But?"

She shook her head, bringing a hand up to rub her temple. "I don't know," she admitted. "It's not that I have a problem against them . . . you know, becoming interested with each other. I just don't know if it's . . . too soon."

"Too soon?" Jay echoed confusingly. "What, that they're too young?"

Biting down on her lip, Delia nodded. "Yeah, kinda. They're . . . they're still kids, the two of them. I mean, Misty's thirteen, she's a teenager, but Ash . . . He's only _eleven_."

"He's gonna be twelve soon," Jay replied, smiling matter-of-factly.

"Oh, now you sound like him," Delia said. She put her hands on her hips, giving him a reproachful look. 

Jay laughed. "Oh come on, is that why?" 

"Don't sound like it doesn't make a difference," Delia frowned at him. "He's a kid, Jay. He's just a little boy . . . I—I don't know if he's ready for such a thing!"

"Well, the fact that he's an eleven-year-old boy with a girlfriend doesn't bother me, it makes me proud! He's _not_ that much a little kid anymore, Delia."

"Well, he still is to me," she responded sadly. "He has a lot of growing up to do, and right now I don't think he really knows what's happening between him and Misty. Sure, they may like each other, but—but it's just a crush! I don't think he knows it's anything beyond that."

Jay sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. She took notice of this, and scowled.

"What? I don't think this is nothing, Jay!"

"But it _is_ nothing!" he contradicted. "Del, it's no big deal! Really, it's not! Ash and Misty—they're just discovering young love. It's cute, it's sweet! I don't think that's anything to go all psycho crazy over."

Delia slumped. "I'm not going all psycho crazy," she mumbled, turning away from him and making her way slowly to the window by the sink. 

She gazed out into the backyard, getting a perfect view of the three kids. They had since collapsed on the lawn—well, two of them. Brock and Misty were sprawled out on the grass relaxingly, large smiles spread across their faces as they watched Ash, who was on his feet and jumping around friskily. Delia followed her boy as he made a rambunctious sprint towards the towering maple tree, leaping and grabbing hold of one of the branches and propelling himself into the air. He soared a few feet and landed squarely on his side, proceeding to roll another few feet as his friends laughed hysterically.

Delia couldn't help but smile happily as she watched her son's deliberate mishap, observing him with utmost motherly love. He was doing what she loved to see—playing and having fun, acting like a kid. He _was_ a kid. That's how she wanted him to be, free and unrestrained and engaged in the prime of his youth. Having a girlfriend and getting involved in a relationship for him was too soon. He already had enough responsibilities in his training that she didn't entirely support. She felt her stomach sink as she watched him rollick, wondering how he possibly understood what he was getting into.

Jay came up beside her, glancing out the window just as she did. 

"Is it because of what Brock said?" he wondered, kneading her side. "Is that what you're worried about? That they're making out behind our backs or something?"

Delia cringed, not wanting to even imagine it. "No," she replied, ashen. It still succeeded in sending a chill up her spine. "I—I know they're not doing that. I _hope_ they aren't doing that . . ."

"Then why don't you feel good about it?" he asked, tilting his head sympathetically.

Delia continued to watch Ash, studying his spirited smile and messy black hair flopping about his head. She took a deep, affectionate breath. "Because he's still my boy," she muttered inaudibly. She looked at him with glistening eyes. "He's still my baby, Jay. And . . . and the moment I lose him to a girl . . . that's it. He won't be mine anymore."

Jay gawked at her, shaken with her sullen tone and forlorn expression. Gradually, his face lightened, and with a compassionate smile, brought her into a hug. She embraced him strongly, burying her head into his comforting shoulder.

"Aw, sweetheart," Jay sighed, stroking her silky auburn hair. He tipped her chin to look up at him. "That's why?"

Glancing down, Delia nodded. "I know, it—it's ridiculous. I . . . I should be happy for Ash and Misty. They're such good friends; it's not like Ash found this girl I don't even know or like . . ."

"I know you like Misty," Jay asserted. "I like her, too. But . . . but it's not ridiculous how you feel, Delia. I understand."

Delia smiled weakly. "You do?"

"Of course," Jay replied warmly, running his finger up and down her face lovingly. "But it's gonna happen one day, you know." He looked out the window at Ash. "He's going to grow up."

Feeling tears brim in her eyes, Delia nodded reluctantly. She didn't want to think that yet, but it was reality. First sending him out into the world on his own, and now this . . . it was happening all too soon. A frigid shudder of depression wracked her.

"Besides, you shouldn't let it get you too down," Jay continued, stepping back. A furtive smile curved to his lips. "You'll have someone else soon to baby all over again."

Delia was snapped from her gloomy mood as Jay went to tickle her stomach. She giggled, shrinking away from his torturous fingers. "Oh, stop it, stop it!" she said, swatting his hands. She hated when he took advantage of how ticklish she was. 

"So?" Jay beamed, his teeth gleaming. "Is . . . is there someone special in there right now?"

He stopped tickling, to her relief. Delia regained herself, wiping away her negligible tears. She looked down at her very flat stomach and shrugged. "I don't know," she replied, giving him a sassy look. "What are you trying to do, Jacey Ketchum? Get me pregnant, or something?"

Jay grinned viciously at her remark, rubbing his hands together in a devious manner. "But of course, my dear."

Delia snickered, charging at him playfully. Jay held out his hands and blocked her, the two bursting into laughter. Both had high hopes of having another child. Ever since they had joined back together, they wondered ceaselessly if a baby would eventually be on the way. Though they weren't desperate, it would be the perfect addition to their mended marriage, and just thinking about the simple miracle gave them ecstatic shivers. 

"Well, I'm not sure yet," Delia said peacefully. "With all hope, maybe."

Jay's brown eyes sparkled. "Wow. I get so excited thinking about it."

"Me too," Delia replied. "I want more it more than anything."

Jay nodded, leaning over to give her a kiss. Delia kissed back, cherishing the amazing feeling of his warm lips on her own. 

"I'm still worried about Ash, though," she said after pulling away. "It's not that I'm entirely upset over losing him; it's just that I want what's right for him. I want to make sure he knows what he's doing."

Jay nodded, blinking agreeably. "I know. I do, too. But I also want him to have fun and enjoy himself."

Wrapping her arms around Jay's waist and feeling him squeeze her in return, Delia glanced once more out the window. Ash was now sitting beside Brock and Misty, conversing enjoyably. She sighed inaudibly.

_Just please don't go too far, Ash_, she told him._ Please don't . . . I won't be able to take it. _

* * *

Out in the backyard, repose was the general theme of the late afternoon. Ash, Misty, and Brock couldn't feel any better laying out on their backs under the shade of the tree, staring off at the clouds as they sailed lazily by. Ash was in the process of calming down after running around the yard like a lunatic, and it was certain now all his energy was drained. Misty and Brock had the joy of watching him tire out, which was enough to make their own bodies weary. 

"I can't believe I can be so tired after doing nothing today," Brock said with a determined tone of disgust. "I'm getting way too lazy here."

"Hey, you had to go and fetch me and Ash today," Misty reminded him, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and don't think I'm doing that from now on," he replied, folding his arms behind his head. "If you two are going to go running off, then don't even wait up for me. I'm perfectly happy sittin' under this tree and doing absolutely nothing."

Misty smiled inwardly at his remark, being reminded herself of what happened when she and Ash had run off just an hour before. Raising her head from the ground, she smirked at Brock.

"Well, then you might like the news that Ash and I have to tell you."

Ash rose immediately, grinning at Misty secretly and then at Brock. This certainly intrigued Brock, who cocked his eye at them before rising himself.

"News?" he asked. "What news?"

Misty beamed excitedly, nudging Ash. He giggled and nudged her back. The two simply stared at Brock, who began to smile curiously. They joined hands, building the suspense deliberately. 

"What? What is it, guys?" Brock implored, becoming restless rather quickly.

"We're gonna go out on a date," Misty announced, holding back a shout of glee in doing so. Ash nodded zestfully, his eyes radiant.

Brock's jaw dropped. "Did you just say what I think you said?" he said after a short, incredulous pause, narrowing his eyes.

"Yup," Ash replied, flashing a brilliant smile. "We're going out on a date! Me and Misty!"

Brock felt his ears were playing a dubious trick on him, but nevertheless his shocked expression soon lifted into one of pure awe. Seeing the two of them looking so happy before him was enough to confirm that they weren't fooling around with him. 

"Really? That's great!" he exclaimed elatedly. Ash and Misty glanced contentedly at each other as Brock continued to blurt out in utter surprise. "I can't believe it! You guys going on a date . . . that's just so . . . so . . ._ Wow_!"

He laughed, and Ash and Misty easily followed. They didn't quite know what to make of it either, but both knew how remarkable it made them feel. Fervor to spread the word and let everyone know was exciting in itself, but the thought of the actual event was an even more incredible thing to perceive.

Brock quelled his laughter, and smirked at his friends before him. "Man, I knew you guys were starting to really like each other, but I had no idea you were actually that serious about it!"

They both shrugged. "Well, don't look at me," Misty said, pointing at Ash. "Ash was the one today who told me he considered me his girlfriend."

"Ash?" Brock gasped, gawking at the boy, who was now waving modestly. "You told Misty she was your girlfriend?"

Ash didn't even have to respond to that before Brock's hands flew to his face. He sat there for a moment speechless and still, occupied in his own world of thought. Ash uttered a small laugh, and leaned forward to catch a peek at Brock's expression, wondering what he was thinking. But Brock remained as he was, and Ash gave Misty a baffled shrug. Neither one of their smiles were absent.

"Um, Brock?" Misty chuckled, ready to ease the shock of this seemingly phenomenal revelation for him. She reached over to tap his shoulder, but pulled her arm away hastily.

"_Why?_" Brock suddenly cried, startling a yelp out of the other two. His eyes were shut close in desperation. "I don't understand! You two barely had any idea what you thought about each other, and yet this all fell into your laps so perfectly!" His head hung. "Why? Why can't that ever happen to _me_?" 

Ash and Misty collapsed backwards on the grass as Brock began to moan. 

"Oh, Brock," Misty sighed as she sat back up again.

Brock held his head for a few more seconds, then looked up at them with a glum face. "Oh well . . . at least I'm happy for you two." His expression rapidly gladdened. "So, when is this big date?"

Ash shrugged. "We didn't think of a day yet," he said. "We don't even know where we're going."

"Yeah," Misty said, smiling. "It came up so suddenly we didn't have a chance to even discuss it yet!"

"But I'm sure we'll just check out a movie or something," Ash said, turning to Misty for a nod. "I mean, nothing big or all."

At the sound of that, Brock perked. His head jerked up at them, eyes wide in aghast. 

"Nothing big?" he repeated with a certain tone of appall. With a jolt, he was on his feet. "Nothing _big_? Are you crazy? This is your first date! You can't just go _anywhere_ and do _anything_!"

Ash and Misty fidgeted, alarmed at his inflexible glare. Brock couldn't believe the amount of nonchalant undertaking they were putting into this special event. A first date was not to be taken lightly, and he knew that more than anyone. Years upon years of fantasies and dreams had perfected the ultimate date in his mind, and nothing but the best was to be in store for his two dearest friends.

Arching his back and lifting his head proudly, Brock looked down at Ash and Misty, whose faces were strewn with bewilderment, with a glint of cunning in his eye.

"There's no way I'm letting you guys think casually about this date," he said resolutely. "This is the first time you're going to go out as one, as a couple. It has to be special, distinct. Something you'll remember for the rest of lives as the beginning of a wonderful and blissful relationship!"

Ash and Misty widened their eyes in surprise, regarding each other oddly for a moment.

"Um . . . you have some advice for us, Brock?" Ash asked nervously, felling as though he was beholden to do it.

Brock suddenly lurched and came before them, holding his fist before their faces determinedly. They cringed slightly.

"Of course I have advice! You're incredibly lucky to know someone who holds such wisdom over such a delicate and important subject!"

Misty narrowed her eyes. "Ooh, lucky us," she said sarcastically. Togepi trilled beside her.

Brock smirked. "Okay, listen you two. If you truly want to have the most memorable first date, take my word. Somewhere private is the place to go, somewhere dim and romantic—a stroll in the park at night, a candlelight dinner at a fancy restaurant—"

"A movie theater," Misty suggested impassively.

Clearing his throat, Brock glowered at her. "As I was saying, somewhere quiet and not busy, where your attentions are fully on each other." His voice then dropped, and his teeth gritted in emotion as he stared up at the sky. "Then, at the end of the night, under the heavenly night sky, beneath the bright stars and moon, you'll look into each other's eyes and profess your young and undying love to each other!"

He viciously swooped down and grabbed Ash roughly by the collar, bringing the recoiling boy to his face.

"Ash! You have no idea how important this night is!" he screamed fervently into his face, shaking him. "There's absolutely no way in the whole wide world you can screw this up, you just can't! 'Cause if you do, you'll lose her forever and live in complete and utter misery for the rest of your life!"

Ash sweatdropped, flinching. "Uhhhhh . . ."

"_Brock_!" 

Brock yelped as Misty seized him aggressively by the ear, bringing him face-to-face with her rigid snarl. 

"This date is for me and Ash, not your dumb fantasy world!" she cried, watching Brock cower and wince. 

"Um . . ." Brock said, managing an apprehensive smile. "Movie theater sounds fine to me . . ."

He made a shaky thumbs-up, inducing her to release him. Misty brushed herself off, huffing. Ash, who had been watching the whole thing with a quaint, little smile, stood as well. 

"Thanks for the advice, Brock," he laughed, "but I think me and Misty are going to go to the movies first. Maybe we'll try that stuff out later on."

Brock nodded gently, while Misty smiled in agreement. _Of course we'll try that stuff_, she told him in her mind. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of Brock's very enticing visions, hers being very similar. But she knew that was all too out of their league for the time being, as the simple conception of going to the movies exclusively with Ash was pure satisfaction for her.

All of a sudden, Ash's face brightened with excitement. "Hey, I'm gonna tell Mom!" he squealed. "I can't wait to hear what she thinks about this!"

"Yeah!" Misty agreed just as enthusiastically, grabbing Togepi and taking off with Ash as he made a stimulated beeline to the house.

Brock's eyes suddenly glazed over. _Tell . . . Mom?_ he thought, gulping. His face falling, he gave chase not a moment later. He couldn't even fathom how Delia was going to react to this, and truthfully, he didn't think he wanted to know.

"Ash! Wait!" he cried, only to be ignored. Ash and Misty were well on their way to the house by now to pay any heed to him. 

Ash did hear Brock as he ran towards his backdoor, but it didn't phase him one bit. He was too thrilled about letting his mom know about his big night to care about anything else, even Brock asking to wait up so that he would be present for the announcement. His blood raced and his stomach jumped to his throat with tumult and pride, and each second that it took to make it clear to his kitchen was too long.

"Mom! Mom!" he shouted as he burst through the door, skidding on the floor. He nearly crashed into his two startled parents, making a screeching halt just in time.

"Whoa, slow down there, squirt!" Jay laughed, holding out his hands in case Ash was to slide another inch.

"What is it? Calm down!" Delia said, reaching over to tenderly brush the side of her exhilarated boy's glowing face. 

Ash bounced around, unable to control his aroused limbs. Misty and Brock arrived not a second later, Misty's face lit up with joy and Brock's knitted in uneasiness. It was indeed a varied array of facial expressions, one that fascinated Jay and Delia immediately. But it was Ash's that drew the most attention; his exuberant grin and clenched fists made it hard to overlook him. 

"Mom! Guess what?" Ash cried, hopping up and down in place. Misty sniggered at his silliness.

"What is it?" she grinned in reply, indulging in his pristine rapture. There was nothing else in the world that made her more satisfied than to see Ash so happy. She could only ponder what was making him so stirred up.

Ash and Misty gave each other another one of their trademark reserved grins before Ash proclaimed, "Misty and I are going to go out on a date!"

Delia suddenly paled, drawing back slightly. In an instant, the smile was wiped clean off her face, and she stood stone still, watching as Ash began to laugh with delight over his announcement. Brock was the only one to notice this; it stuck out as a sore thumb that she wasn't thrilled with this, but Ash and Misty were momentarily too delirious to see it. 

Jay was a completely different story. "Hey, that's great! All right, buddy!" he chimed, clapping his hands and giving Ash a friendly shove.

"Yeah!" Ash said. "We're really excited!"

"Well, you should be!" Jay smiled. "First dates are _always_ fun!"

Ash and Misty nodded, and in a flash Ash turned to his mom. Despite her discontented look, he continued to smile nonetheless.

"How about it, Mom? Cool, right?" 

Delia looked up into her son's cheerful face, swallowing uneasily. "I . . . I don't know, Ash."

Ash's face promptly fell. "Huh?"

His interrogation of quandary wrenched her, and she shut her eyes against it. What was she going to say to this? She couldn't think, couldn't formulate her thoughts. A _date_? Where did this come from all of a sudden? She looked down at him with an austere cock of her eyebrow, the war between her fret and compassion for her boy's disheartened stare raging. 

"Wh-where are you going?" she decided to ask. She retained a rigid stance, one that instantly baffled Ash and Misty. She needed information, and more importantly, conviction that this was going to be all right. "What are you going to do?" 

"Why? W-what's the matter?" Ash stuttered, flustered. "We just wanna go on a date. Ca-can't we?"

"Well, I want to know some stuff first," Delia replied firmly. Ash watched his father slump behind her and shake his head, looking noticeably perturbed. 

_What's going on?_ Ash wondered troublingly, giving his mother a face to express just that. 

"We just wanted to go to the movies one night," he answered.

"Uh-huh," Misty piped in quietly. 

"Mom, what's wrong? We can't do that?"

Delia felt her heart sink at the sight of Ash's face being taken over with disappointment. This wasn't like her, and she knew it. 

_It's just the movies_, she told herself. _He's gone to the movies before. But . . . it's a date. He's going on a date? Oh my God . . . _

"W-well," Delia started, wringing her hands. "I—I guess you can . . . maybe . . ."

"Maybe?" Ash gasped incredulously. He didn't understand—why wasn't she happy about this? He would have thought she'd be gushing over it by now. She was usually up for anything he wanted to do with Misty and Brock. This was undoubtedly bizarre. 

"Mom, why can't we go to the movies?" he whispered, begging for the approval he craved—and needed. Seeing her indecisive look made him uneasy. "What's wrong with that?"

"Ash, you can go to the movies," Jay suddenly said, coming up beside Delia. His face was serious yet lively. He wasn't in the mood to hear this dilemma of Delia's all over again, especially if it was going to hinder Ash and Misty's excitement. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Delia glared at him, conveying her censure to his input with a quick narrowing of her eyes. Jay gave her just a look and light jab in response that told her to simply snap out of it before smiling back at Ash and Misty again.

"It's okay, kids," he said. "I'm excited for you, you're gonna fun. No problem at all."

"Um . . . o-okay," Ash said hesitantly. Something was wrong, though. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his mother. Even though Jay was delighted and definitely favored the date, he never really did anything unless his mom said it was okay. He needed her to smile and tell him it was all right, and he wasn't going to be satisfied until he got just that.

"Ma, what's up?" he exclaimed. "Why aren't you excited over this?"

"Because," Delia replied immediately, hushing herself to rethink what she was going to senselessly blurt out. _Because you're my little boy and I don't want you to go out on a date yet . . ._ No, she couldn't say that! She winced at the thought of it. Jay was right; he was a lot more grown-up than she thought. And she couldn't imagine what he would say in response to that. Nothing cheery, that was for sure. 

"Because . . . it's just a bit of a shock, sweetie," she managed to say, forcing a smile to her face. She could do this; she could make him understand. "I mean, it just seemed like yesterday you were learning to tie your shoes, and now . . . now you're going on a date."

Seeing him blush made her smile genuine in a heartbeat. She shrugged, her hand wandering over to rub his shoulder gently. 

"It's not that I don't want you to go on a date, it's just that it's so sudden," she explained, her tone heavyhearted. "I have to be honest, honey, I pictured you going out on your first date when you were a _lot_ older. And even then I don't know how I'd get used to it. It's a big step, and it's just as effective on me as it is on you, believe me."

Ash chuckled quietly, searching for Misty's hand. He found it and grasped it tightly. "Yeah. I didn't think it would happen so soon either, but . . ." He looked over at Misty and smiled. "I'm sorry to surprise you like this, but me and Misty . . . we really want to do this. And . . . and I would really, really love it and appreciate it if you would . . . let us go?"

"Yeah," Misty said.

_Oh God, how can I say no to that? _Delia thought, mentally shaking her head. _I can't say no . . ._ She breathed comfortingly. "Aw, sweetie. If that's what you really want, then sure, you can go. It's okay." 

"Really?"

"Yes. But . . . you promise me that you'll be okay?" 

Ash was positively luminous now. "Of course we'll be okay!" he replied assuredly. 

"Promise!" Misty added, feeling a rhapsodic chill fly through her body. She quickly turned to smile at Brock, who gave her a sanguine nod in return. 

"Thanks, Ma!" Ash said graciously, giving her a big hug. His mind rid itself completely of his mother's temporary, unusual hesitance, putting his joy before that. "Thank you so, so much!"

"You're welcome," Delia replied softly. Ash broke away from her, and she meandered backwards, bumping into Jay and reclining into him. She held her breath as he put her arms around her, giving her a quick, praising embrace. He was relieved she had finally put the nonsense of her concerns behind her, and she felt it. She just prayed she did it for the best. 

TO BE CONTINUED . . . 


	3. Joyful Discovery

**Blue Heaven**

_By Spruceton Spook_

Part 3

Joyful Discovery

The night had swiftly approached, bringing with it a pleasant and talkative dinner. A change of pace from the most recent meals, the subject of the vow renewals came up rather infrequently, replaced with the fresher and oncoming date of Ash and Misty's. Jay and Delia had to marvel over how whimsical their son's disposition had become. It was a personality that not only made him unable to calm down, but also allowed him to thoughtlessly scarf down food immoderately and land him with a painful stomachache. 

The kids turned in early, Ash grumbling in agony and Misty tsk-tsking at his misfortune. It had been a big day anyway, and their eyes were involuntarily drooping as the hours wore on. Delia saw them to bed and wished them sweet dreams, wiping her brow indicatively from the accomplishment of finally getting them settled.

The quiet of the night soaked into her as she collapsed on the couch, snuggling up and drawing the newspaper to her face. She wasn't really that tired, and the few hours of complete and blissful stillness that she was blessed to take advantage of were just what the doctor prescribed. 

As she set herself comfortably on the funnies, the first page she always opened to, she heard a faint whistling behind her. She slumped, a kittenish grin prying at her lips. Oh great, just when she got a moment of peace! Sighing, she leaned her head backwards over the armrest, taking in an upside-down view of her husband smirking at her. She smiled as he continued to whistle, waltzing over to her and reaching to gently massage the sides of her face.

"Yes?" she inquired, flicking the newspaper once to show him she was momentarily busy. It was just a joke, naturally; there was nothing that could take her attention away when Jay was smiling so boyishly at her, his handsome face melting its way to her heart and making her body dissolve with passion.

"Nothing," he shrugged, going from stroking her gently to pulling at her hair, swaying as he did so.

Delia, getting the gist of his mischievous manner, went back to reading the comics. He continued to whistle, then to hum, purposely growing louder and more obnoxious as to get on her nerves and enhance the fun of his game. She wasn't going to give in to it, though, desperately stifling her giggles. Inevitably she'd succumb to it, but she wanted to see how far he would go to get her to playfully lash out. 

"Delia," he sang, his deep voice resounding pleasingly. "Deeeeliaaa . . ."

She grinned, finding it so difficult to ignore his antics. She bore his tender hair-pulling and turned the page of the paper, sighing ignorantly. Figuring he was getting antsy over her neglect, she was absolutely right as he inconspicuously released her hair and squeezed her nose shut, prompting her to sit up abruptly.

"What are you _doing_?" she guffawed, flipping around to smack at him. He reeled back and laughed, then eagerly pranced over to the couch and plopped beside her. She pulled her legs under herself invitingly to give him room.

"Annoying you," he replied truthfully. 

"Yeah, I noticed," she rolled her eyes. She closed the paper and threw it aside on the coffee table. "What do you want?"

Jay shrugged, but his sneaky look denoted there was much more to it. Delia smiled at this.

"Well, then leave me alone. I want to read the paper."

She looked down at it, but her eyes slowly wandered back to him. He winked at her, reclining back on the cushions and taking a deep breath. 

"I don't want to leave you alone, though," he said, running a hand through his unruly black hair.

"Oh, you don't, huh?"

"Nope." He glanced up at the ceiling innocently, childishly twiddling his thumbs. Delia cocked her head at him suspiciously, having a good feeling what was behind his silliness. The way he comically beat around the bush delighted her to no end. 

She snubbed her nose at him. "Then you must want _something_!"

Jay tediously slid closer to her. A twinkle in his eye, he temptingly whispered into her ear, "I wanna try for a baby tonight."

Delia's eyes rose, and she returned his crafty little grin. "Well, what if there's a baby inside of me already? What's gonna happen then? We can't make _two_ babies!"

"We can't. But then again, we don't know that now, do we?" he replied seductively, inducing Delia to giggle.

"No, we don't."

"Whaddah ya say, then?" 

Smiling and fighting down her sensitive blush, Delia closed her eyes as she accepted a passionate kiss from Jay. Not that she needed any encouragement to satisfy his desire, which sounded quite enticing to her as well, but as her body warmed with fabulous excitement, the jesting died and seriousness took over.

"Mmmm," she moaned agreeably, moving her lips away. "Sounds fine to me."

Jay responded happily by pulling her closer for a more intense kiss, smoothing his fingers through her hair. He could feel how responsive she was, how strongly enthused. It was exactly what he needed after that day, as he feared if she would break out of this new funk that had befallen her. Getting her mind off of Ash was just what this night was going to achieve, hopefully—that, and the expectant fact that a baby could possibly come out of it. Two things Jay wished for immensely.

Suddenly, however, just as their ardent engagement was heightening, Delia pulled away. Jay's eyes flew open, and he drew his head back to see her face recoiling as she nervously bit down on her bottom lip.

"Oh my God, what's the matter?" he asked, panic taking hold of him. 

"We shouldn't . . ." Delia said, her voice cracking.

"Shouldn't what? Spend the night together?" Jay exclaimed, his face wrinkling in distress and confusion. 

"No, no," she shook her head. She faltered as she tried to compose herself. "This—this stuff here . . ."

"What stuff?" demanded Jay fretfully. He gasped as he tried to comprehend what had seized her, why she looked so contrite and apprehensive. "Sweetheart, I don't get it, what's the matter?"

Jay wasn't going to like this. Delia knew that right away, but she had already caused this confusion, and she had to clear it up now. She looked at him earnestly, swallowing heavily. 

"What we're doing here," she explained calmly. "The—the kissing and the touchy-feely stuff, the . . . the lures to bed! Jay . . . I don't know, I don't think we should do it anymore! It's not right."

Jay shuddered. "Why not? Why isn't it right?"

Delia felt her heart race, sensing his slow realization through the deep drop in his voice. "It's not that it's not right, it's just that . . . I don't know if we should make such a public display of it!" 

"Public display?" Jay echoed, his eyes drooping. He let go of her slowly. "Delia, is this about . . . ?"

Almost shamefully, Delia nodded. 

"Oh, come on!" Jay groaned. "Please don't start with this again."

Delia slouched. "I'm not starting again! I just think that maybe all this . . . _intimate _stuff isn't appropriate to flash around Ash and Misty. I don't think it's setting a good example for them!"

"Setting a good example?" Jay shook his head. "Delia, honey, this is getting a little out of hand now. I _strongly_ think Ash and Misty know the difference between what goes on between a married couple and what should go on between young friends!"

"Well, maybe they don't!" Delia retorted despairingly. "They're at an impressionable age, Jay! The things we do and say to each other, and—and what they show on TV all the time! All those stupid teenagers slobbering all over each other and falling into bed like it's the natural thing to do, and us doing the same—"

"Delia!" She jumped as his vexed and shocked voice abruptly interjected. He stared fixedly at her, hands grabbing her shoulders. "Listen to me, I don't know where you're getting these crazy ideas! I can't believe you would think that they're thinking about _that_! They're just kids!"

Delia felt heat rushing to her face as embarrassment doused her. She didn't mean to start this. The last thing she wanted to do right now was get into an awkward argument with Jay over this, especially when they were making the most of each other's company. Quickly, she went to contradict.

"No, not that! I know they're just kids! Jay, I don't think they're planning on doing that, that's ridiculous! Oh God, I don't even want to think about it!"

"Then what? What is it that's making you act this way?"

Delia took a deep breath. She felt tears pool in her eyes, not only because of the tense subject they were dealing with, but also the fact that she dreaded Jay was becoming angry with her. She didn't want to talk about it as much as he didn't want to hear it, and she needed to convince him of it. On the other hand, she needed to let him know what she was contemplating, also.

She continued pointedly. "I know they're not thinking about that, Jay. But the scary thing is . . . they might someday. They _will_ think about it. Picture it, the more they're together, the more stuff they're going to want to do with each other eventually!"

Jay shook his head, though deep down he was getting the essence of the concern she was articulating. 

Her voice became shaky and lowered considerably as she looked Jay emotionally in the eye. "It . . . it might not look like they're doing anything involved right now, and they probably aren't, but soon . . . they're going to want to. I mean, today they'll just be hugging and holding hands, but tomorrow? T-tomorrow, who knows? They'll want to go further, kiss—an-and then . . ." 

Jay sighed, letting his head drop into his hand. He fell into a stony silence, one that didn't make complete sense to Delia. She stared at him conscientiously, wondering what he was thinking, wondering how ludicrous she sounded. In an instant, a feeling of guilt and idiocy over her assumptions invaded her. She knew how foolish it was the think that her child would consider such things, and worse, that was she could even elaborate on such a notion. 

"I'm sorry," she felt inclined to mumble as the silence lingered uncomfortably. "I—I know this is stupid, I'm sorry . . ."

"No." Jay lifted his head, and ease washed through Delia when she noticed how calm his face had become. "It's okay, don't apologize."

"Don't apologize?"

Jay shook his head. "I agree with you. I agree with you that they might be impressionable. Of course . . . I mean, kids today—they're so surrounded by all this stuff and—and who knows what they're thinking?"

She nodded glumly, shivering at the thought.

"But," Jay went on frankly, "I don't think we have to worry that much with Ash and Misty. You've talked to Ash, haven't you? You know how he is."

"Yeah . . . but I haven't gone into it that much! He's still so little; I didn't think I'd have to tell him this stuff till he was a teenager!"

"Shhh," Jay shushed softly, taking hold of her hand and shaking it affectionately. He smiled warmly. "You don't have to, okay? Trust me, I think that's as far back pushed in his mind as you would love to believe."

"It is?" Delia squeaked, her face lightening. 

Jay nodded assuredly. "I'm positive it is. I bet ya he's still squirming at the possibility of cooties!"

She had to giggle at that. He made everything always sound believable, and with all hope, he was right with this one. 

Jay reached over to delicately brush the hair away from her eyes, making her tremble pleasurably at his touch. "Hey, would you feel better if I talked to Ash tomorrow?"

"Talked to him?" 

"Sure. You know, man-to-man. Just so that I can make you even more confident that he's still a little punk at heart."

He gave her a promising wink, to which she beamed at. "I would love that," she sighed affably. 

"Good," Jay replied appeasingly. He leaned forward to deliver a quick peck to her cheek. "And I don't think the things you and me do effect what they think at all. Especially when they're up there in dreamland, and you and me are down here _allll_ by ourselves. Got that, missy?"

She smiled sheepishly, and he stared into her eyes for an amazingly prolonged time. It was remarkable how such a simple activity could make all of Delia's troubles waste away, his comforting gaze making her feel so loved, protected, and optimistic. 

"So?" Jay asked, breaking the idyllic pause. "You wanna go to bed?"

Gazing at him lovingly, Delia found no difficulty in making that decision. "With all pleasure."

* * *

The next morning, Ash felt like a million bucks. For one, his stomachache was gone, a most welcomed relief. He had to sigh upon waking up with the presence of no cramps, completely opposite from the merciless torture he'd experienced the night before. Cursing himself over the illness and vowing that he would never eat like that again, he forgave himself quickly and treated himself to a delicious, meager breakfast vigorously.

Promise for a bright and sunny day lifted his spirits even more. He couldn't wait to get out and spend it rewardingly with Misty and Brock. His legs twitched to go, his mind set on one and only one thing: enjoyment. The quest for this spurred his good-natured and lively temperament, which was radiant and spreading to his friends like a swarm of Beedrill. There was nothing like a pleasant Sunday morning to bring the best out of them . . . even when they were changing sheets.

Ash was dressed and nearly out the door before he remembered it was sheet-changing day. He slumped but quickly reconsidered it—he was too much in a good mood to pout and whine about it. He kissed his mom good-bye as she headed for the store and bound up the stairs, grabbing a handful of fresh, sweet-smelling new sheets and distributing them to his similarly animated friends.

"Hey, Ash," Misty smiled as she ripped her old sheets off her rollaway. "I was thinking about what movie we should see next week."

Ash, who was sprawled across his bed trying to fasten the sheet to the corner and failing repeatedly, looked up. "Oh, yeah!" he replied. He hopped to his knees, and the poorly-attached sheet snapped back at him. "I was thinking, too! You know what we should see? That new action-thriller they're raving about!"

"Oooh, _Vile Strive_?" Brock grinned, getting noticeably excited. He was far done in changing his bed, and was now leaning against Ash's desk, watching the other two finish their work.

Ash's eyes brightened. "Yeah, that's the one! Oh man, I hear it's awesome!" He turned to Misty, surprised to see that she donned a face that didn't exactly match his enthusiasm. 

"What?" she simply asked, eyebrows arched.

"_Vile Strive_!" he repeated, his voice instantly peaking to a growl of juicy zeal. "All those cool shooting scenes and car chases and stuff! And I hear there's even some Pokémon battles in it! It looks way too exciting to pass up!"

"Pika _pika_!" Pikachu voiced his agreement energetically. Ash laughed and gave a thumbs-up to his friend sitting below.

Misty stood motionless, her sheet hanging limply at her side. "Um, that's not really the movie I had in mind, Ash."

"Huh?" Ash asked, disappointment dripping in his tone. 

Misty chuckled absurdly, giving him a face. "There's no way I'm going to see that movie!" she said resolutely. "Pu-lease!"

His jaw dropping, Ash crawled closer to the edge, the springs of the bed crooning under his weight. 

"What are you talking about, Misty? I want to see that movie!"

"Well, I don't," Misty replied. "Doesn't interest me one bit!"

Ash narrowed his eyes. "How can that not interest you? It's pure excitement!" he said, folding his arms in front of him.

Misty grimaced. "Yeah, right, just what I want to see—a bunch of guys with blood dripping all over their bodies beating the crap out of each other!"

Brock stifled a laugh, and he modestly turned in awaiting Ash's response.

"That stuff's cool!" Ash protested determinedly. "Why, what do _you _wanna see?" He honestly had to hear what could be more worth the time than _Vile Strive_, which not only happened to be the box-office topper but a movie he'd been eagerly anticipating for a quite a time.

Misty grinned impudently. "_First Comes Love_, of course," she replied, shaking her head as if it were preposterous Ash didn't know the answer in the first place.

Ash thought he was going to gag. He grabbed at his stomach, but nothing but laughter blurted from his mouth. "Are you _kidding_ me?" he exclaimed, hoping for a moment that she had to be. Like there was any way he was going to see some corny chick-flick!

Misty didn't take so lightly to his sudden outburst. Instantly, her face puffed and reddened irately. Brock nearly retreated from her fiery glare. He was just about to comment himself, but decided it was best to keep quiet, as he knew from past experiences that interfering with Misty was frequently not a wise choice.

"No, I'm not kidding you!" she replied hotly. "For your information, Ash, that's a movie _I _really want to see!"

"W-why?" Ash asked between laughs. 

"Because it looks really good, that's why!" 

"But it's just a bunch of kissing and mushy romance stuff!" Ash cried. "I don't wanna see a movie like that! Those are _boring_!"

"Boring?" Misty gasped, viciously hurling her sheet to the ground. She stormed up to the bed and stared rigidly into the face of her highly-amused/disgusted boyfriend, who had a gleam of tease in his eye. "That stuff's not boring!" 

For a second, Brock swore Ash was going to leap off his bed and onto her, but instead he just stood, his head nearly bumping into the ceiling. "Oh yeah?" he retorted bitterly.

"Yeah!" Misty belted out, fists clenched at her side. Quite likewise to Ash, Misty couldn't possibly picture herself sitting in a movie theater and taking in such an unappealing picture, be it a date or not. But she smiled consciously on the inside—by all means, she was going to see her movie. If she had to tear him off the bed and knock his head into the wall a few times, she was going to achieve it.

Brock could only tremble as he studied the scene, though a grin was etching its way to his face. Being a couple or not, they were _still _Ash and Misty. And as usual, Brock knew this wasn't going to be such a bounded disagreement—it was going to get ugly. Cautiously, he stepped back as Ash gritted his teeth in aggravation. 

"Hey, I'm paying for this movie!" he argued. He nearly lost his balance, but regained it. "I'm treating you to it, so I should at least get the choice of what we're going to see!"

"Sorry, it doesn't work that way, Ash!"

"Says who?"

"Says . . . _me_, that's who!" 

Ash growled petulantly. "I want to see _Vile Strive_!"

"I want to see _First Comes Love_, and that's what we're going to see!"

"No way! I'm not seeing that!"

"Yes, you are! I'm not going to sit in a theater with a bunch of punks and crude guys all cheering for more death!" Misty practically screamed. 

_Oh man, she's getting red_, Brock noted. _Here we go . . ._

"Well, I'm not sitting in a theater with a bunch of sobbing women and coffee-house girls!"

_Uh-oh . . . _

Misty stomped her foot. "Oh, Ash Ketchum, that's _it_!" In a flash, she twirled around and snatched her pillow from her bed, proceeding to fling it viciously at Ash. He blocked the blow and without hesitation retaliated, grabbing his pillow and repeated the same assault.

Brock flinched and sweatdropped. "Hey—hey, guys! Cut it out, come on!" he begged of them, but they completely ignored him, whacking each other ruthlessly with their pillows. Ash had somewhat of an advantage being on his bed, as Misty's pillow seemed to collide more with the bedside than the boy himself, while he was successfully landing some good ones on her head.

"Guys, that's enough!" Brock cried, making the mistake of trying to restrain Misty first.

"Oh, Brock, butt out!" Misty snarled, smacking him squarely in the face with the pillow. "Can't you see I'm busy trying to kill him?"

Stumbling back, Brock reached up to rub his face. Huffing, he grabbed his pillow and did what seemed habitual—he joined in. As much as he was incensed about Misty turning on him, the contribution was merely a quest to end the squabble gone wrong.

The reason for the fight was forgotten as the three pillowed each other mercilessly. They weren't quiet about it either—Misty seemed to do quite a bit of malicious grunting in between whacks. Ash was getting a bit fed up, but all the same he needed to win this fight, how ever that would be. Coming to the spontaneous realization that his chances were greater on the ground, he dodged Misty's blow and leapt from his bed. His feet didn't find the ground securely, and in the next second he was stumbling uncontrollably, his door putting a stop to it abruptly and loudly.

Ash cringed from the impact, which wracked his entire side in numbing pain. And to add to that, Misty hadn't stopped swinging that pillow. He wasn't the only one to cringe from the rather painful occurrence, though. A floor below, Jay was listening to the progression of argument to war, and the thundering crash that made the whole house practically shake brought him to his feet in a heartbeat.

He had no idea what was happening up there, but he was ready to put an end to it. It was certainly nothing playful going on; someone was going to get hurt. He made his way to the stairs, shaking his head.

"ASH!" he bellowed as loudly as he could.

The sound of his father's booming voice made Ash freeze in place immediately, as well as Misty and Brock. Their eyes widened, pillows held high over their heads and arms raring to swing. 

"What's going on up there?" Jay yelled, pounding on the wall.

"Nothing!" Ash called back, his voice shaky. Misty and Brock gave him apprehensive stares and held their breath.

"_Nothing?_" Jay asked incredulously, his tone sharp. "Yeah, right! Get over here, Ash!"

Ash winced, glancing at his friends timorously. Brock returned the same look with a touch of sympathy, but if matters weren't bad enough, there was Misty, sneering like an idiot and rocking her head back and forth in a snotty manner.

"Ha, you're in trouble! Good for ya!"

Ash scowled and balled his fists, but sending another hostile rejoinder her way wasn't the smartest move at that point. He just tossed his head in the opposite direction, his venomous look gradually fading to a considerably nervous one as he approached the top of the stairs. Gazing down at his annoyed father, he wrung his hands timidly.

"Yeah, Dad?" he squeaked, his heart rate increasing just a bit as Jay's stern glare blazed into him.

"What's the problem up there?" he interrogated, tapping his fingers impatiently on the banister. Happy was the last aspect Ash associated with his dad at the moment.

Ash swallowed hard, his explanation coming out rather sheepishly. "N-nothing, Dad. It's just that me and Misty, we got into this fight over what movie to see, and it . . . well, it kinda led to a pillow fight, and—and I just tripped and fell into the door; no one got hurt! We-we're done, we're not gonna fight anymore, I promise!"

Jay smiled to himself as he saw his son draw back slightly. He was so little up there, his guilty look exposing his pure innocence and youth. To think that he had his mind on unmentionable things was nonsensical! Jay knew better. Of course he wasn't upset with him, although the roughhousing was a bit out of hand. He wanted to stop it and he did, but seeing as Ash was now alone and in his possession for the moment, Jay found it to his advantage.

Keeping on his rigid expression, he beckoned Ash down with a slow curling of his finger. The boy crept down the stairs reluctantly, dragging his feet. 

"Wh-what, Dad?" he asked inaudibly, fear obvious in his voice. "I—I'm sorry . . ."

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jay ushered him into the kitchen. Ash's innards were tightening radically, wishing he could will himself out of this mess. After the conflict with Misty, he was in no mood to get yelled at. Once they arrived, Jay pushed him gently towards one of the chairs, bidding him to sit. 

Ash did, and glanced at his father oddly as he pulled out a chair for himself and sat beside him, leaning his head casually on his hand. Every sign of displeasure and anger was suddenly gone from his face, leaving Ash in a confused muddle. He had no idea where he stood, but was beginning to gradually relax.

"So," his dad began, "tell me what happened upstairs."

_Huh?_ Ash thought, as he had already somewhat explained this. "A-about the pillow fight?"

"No, no!" Jay waved it away, sighing. He grinned slightly. "About you and Misty. Tell me about your little fight."

_What does he want to know about that?_ Ash wondered, tilting his head. "Uh . . . we—we kinda had a fight about what movie to see."

"Ah," Jay nodded understandably. 

"I . . . I don't get her," Ash continued. He was still perplexed how he had gone from being in trouble to explaining his matters with Misty, but whatever. It was certainly nothing to complain about. "I want to see that new movie, you know, the cool one, _Vile Strive_?"

"Oh, that movie looks excellent!" Jay said.

Ash smiled widely. "Yeah, I know!" He suddenly scoffed. "But Misty wants to see that sappy love movie—_First Comes Love_. Ugh, I hate that stuff. I don't wanna see that!"

Jay had to smirk, shaking his head at Ash's childish and expected attitude. "Oh, Ashton," he laughed lightly, intriguing him. He reached over and patted his shoulder. "Hate to tell you this, kid, but in this case, I don't think you have a choice."

"Huh?" Ash asked. "Why not?"

Jay smiled compassionately. "You don't know the first thing about this stuff, do you?"

"I guess not . . ."

Jay leaned back in his chair, folding his arms relaxingly behind his head. "Well, when it comes to the movies, there's one plain and simple thing to remember . . . you're gonna wind up seeing the flick she wants to see."

"What? Why?" Ash questioned, his brow furrowing.

Jay shrugged. "Beats me. It just always seems to work that way."

"You—you mean I'm gonna have to sit through that love movie?" Ash winced, slouching discouragingly.

"'Fraid so, kiddo," Jay lamented. "But don't let it totally bum you out. You'd be surprised—some of those movies actually turn out pretty good sometimes."

Ash lifted his head hopefully. "Really?"

"Well, I can tell you _First Comes Love_ isn't going to be as cool as _Vile Strive_, but you'll survive. You'll see."

Ash looked down. "I hope so." He took a deep breath. "But . . ."

"But what?"

"I already made such a fuss about not wanting to go to that dumb movie," Ash scowled. "I can just see how Misty is going to react when I tell her that I'll go . . . she'll just laugh in my face and tell me _'I told ya so.'_"

Jay grinned broadly and chuckled as Ash imitated Misty's voice. "Ash, don't worry about it. All you have to do is go up there and say a few simple words, and all will be rectified in a second."

"What words?" Ash asked interestedly.

His father cleared his throat. "'You were right. I'm sorry.'"

Ash's eyes rose. "That's it?" Jay nodded. "I don't wanna say that."

"Ash," he groaned, shaking his son's knee affectionately, "better get used to it now. You're gonna be saying that for the rest of your life."

Ash narrowed his eyes. "That bites."

Jay blinked in agreement. "That it does, but what can you do?"

Ash reluctantly nodded, proceeding to look off and silence for a moment. Jay watched him, wondering what he was thinking. He obviously wasn't taking this new-found advice lightly, but there seemed to be more to his apprehensive stare.

"What are you thinking about, buddy?" he asked, jerking Ash out of his thoughts. Ash swallowed anxiously, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, I dunno . . . I . . ."

"What?" Jay asked soothingly.

Ash was still, the reason for his nervousness right on his tongue and ready to exit his mouth from where he was momentarily keeping it trapped. Hearing about the deal with the movies and the fight he had with Misty fresh on his mind, he was suddenly swamped with a new concern. And although these two factors had a part in it, the greatest terror of them all was something that neither of them hardly compared to. He looked up into the anticipative face of his dad, who was there to listen and encouraging him to open up, and breathed deeply.

"I'm nervous, Dad," he whispered, cringing to make his point.

Jay's smile slowly faded to a look of slight surprise as Ash lifted his hands to the table top and began to fiddle with them absentmindedly, his eyes wavering.

"Nervous?" Jay asked. "A . . . about the date?" Haggardly, Ash nodded. "Why?"

"B-because I am," Ash answered simply, shrugging. "I'm scared because . . . I've never done it before. I don't know what to do or—or how it's gonna be. I mean, I'm excited too, but as much as I want the date to come, I . . . I don't want it to come."

Jay couldn't check the short laugh that escaped from his mouth. It was not a teasing one nor was it rude, he was just shocked. Ash knew this; he took no offense or embarrassment to it. He smiled wearily and admittedly at his father.

"Stupid, huh?" he laughed pathetically at himself.

Jay's smile rapidly returned. It was gentle and consoling one, for he understood completely. "Ash, it's not stupid. I know how you feel. It's . . . it's a big thing. But listen to me, don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be great—you're gonna have an awesome time."

"I am?" 

"Of course," Jay said assuredly. "You like Misty a lot, don't you?"

Ash blushed and bit his smile away. "I . . . I guess I do—yeah. She—she's my girlfriend."

Although Jay had never heard Ash refer to Misty as his girlfriend, he showed no incredulity to it and smiled in warm comprehension. 

"I mean . . . even upstairs, when we were fighting," Ash continued thoughtfully, "I—I still liked her, you know? I don't know, it's like no matter how she acts or what she's doing, I can't dislike her for any of it. It's . . . hard to."

Jay sighed. "I know exactly how you feel, kid." Ash smiled. "So tell me," he said, giving him a sly nudge. "Have you guys been doing . . . you know, boyfriend and girlfriend-y stuff?"

He knew he'd have to bring it up some time. He had promised Delia he would talk to Ash, and even though he had gotten a lot from Ash without barely trying, there was still the subject of what they were in fact doing. Ash seemed undoubtedly nervous about all of it, but Jay never knew what Misty would bring into the picture. Being older than him and wiser in a way, Jay couldn't help but wonder if she was introducing anything into their relationship that Ash was uncertain of.

He'd expected the blush to streak across Ash's face again; damn, the boy was sensitive! Jay almost laughed at Ash's bashful face—if only Delia were here to see it. 

"Well," Ash answered, "nothing really. We just hug sometimes and we hold hands a lot . . . that's basically it."

"That's it? Really?" Jay said, still keeping that wily grin. "You . . . you don't do anything else?"

Ash shook his head. "Uh-uh. We . . . I don't know . . ."

"No, what?" Jay urged as Ash's face reddened even more.

His son gulped a bit uncomfortably. "I . . . I don't know, sometimes—sometimes I get this idea that maybe we . . . w-we might kiss soon."

Jay cocked his head as Ash uttered a fidgety giggle. He was no longer fiddling with his fingers, he was picking savagely at the nails.

"Really?" Jay asked, beaming. "You think so?"

"Well . . ." Ash's face suddenly fell, his tone becoming wobbly. "I guess so. I mean, we haven't talked about it or anything, but . . . I feel it, you know, when we hug or something. I feel like it's coming, and . . . I dunno, I don't know if I want it to. I'm . . . I'm sorta scared."

_Oh man_, Jay thought. _Delia, you should be here, baby. Oh my God, you should be here! _Here Ash was, practically on the verge of tears letting out what he kept cooped up inside his heart. He was literally shaking, his fists balled as the thought invaded his mind. Fear that he and Misty were fooling around as children their ages shouldn't? The poor kid was breaking into a nasty sweat!

"Oh, Ash," Jay whispered tenderly. "You don't have to be scared of that."

"Yeah, but I am," Ash replied just as softly. "I really, _really_ don't think I'm ready to . . . do that yet."

"Well, then you listen to me," Jay said, leaning over to look him directly and considerately in the face. Ash's eyes met his intently. "You go at your own pace, all right? If you don't want to do that yet, take your time. Someday you'll realize, 'Gee, I would really like to kiss Misty now.' That day will come, and I want you wait for it, okay, kiddo? Because that's when it's going to be special, it's gonna mean something. Wetting your pants over it isn't gonna make it enjoyable, and I don't think Misty's gonna like that, either."

Ash laughed. "Well, I don't think I'd do _that_ . . ."

"In any case," Jay grinned, going on carefully, "you're still a kid, Ash. I'm not saying that means you can't do it; if you think you're ready for it, then you certainly can, but . . . don't kill yourself over it. What you and Misty are doing now is special enough. You have _plenty_ of time. Got that?"

Nodding, Ash smiled gratefully. Although the subject had been frightening him lately, he wasn't ready to admit it to anyone. In that instant, he was glad he'd opened up. What had been making his stomach churn was suddenly soothed by his dad's simple advice, which he took to his heart and settled his worries.

"Got it. Thanks, Dad," he said. Jay was satisfied, fully convinced that Ash wasn't anything to fret over. He couldn't wait to tell Delia what Ash had said, finally allow her to relax over the whole ordeal. 

"Hey, you're welcome," he replied, playfully punching his son's face. "Now, why don't you go up there and do what I said with Misty. Okay?"

"Sure," Ash answered, getting up from his seat. 

"Oh, and try not to get in any more fights up there. Mommy's coming home soon, and you know she doesn't like that horseplay stuff."

"Okay," Ash said, leaving his father with a feeling nearly opposite to the one he had first arrived with. The talk about Misty had practically cleared his head of the previous situation with Jay and focused his mind on how the next few minutes would go. He walked up the stairs briskly and slowed near his room, opening the door cautiously.

His friends turned to him as he entered. Misty, the disagreement still unnerving her, gave him a saucy look. Ash tried not to make eye-contact with her, keeping an indifferent expression as he closed the door quietly behind him.

"Is everything okay?" Brock asked in a low voice.

"Uh-huh."

"So what happened?" This was Misty, flashing her derisive teeth.

"Nothing," Ash shrugged, her insolent smirk making him quiver. He couldn't believe he was ready to surrender to this.

"Yeah, right!" Misty retorted.

"No, nothing happened!" Ash growled, then threw it away. "Look, I have something to say to you, Misty."

Misty folded her arms and waited. "Yeah?"

Ash took a deep breath. Even though she was giving him the most nervy look she could produce, there was still something about her. He knew that this wasn't going to last long, that this fight, as did every other, was going to end soon, and before he knew it, they would be out having fun again like nothing had ever happened. Getting this done, though, was the hard part.

_You were right—_ Oh, he couldn't do this! He couldn't even think it! If anything, Misty should be apologizing to _him_ for causing the event that landed him in that untimely position with his dad. Even though that had turned out okay, it still couldn't have, and Ash certainly would have been perturbed by that. But he didn't want to fight anymore, he didn't want to be at wit's end with Misty . . . he wanted to do this.

He couldn't say what his dad had told him to, though. It sounded too . . . too impotent. Ash quickly went over what he needed to say to her in his mind, and with a deep breath, uttered what he thought best and truthful. 

"We can go to that movie, Misty," Ash said inaudibly, giving her a small smile. "I don't mind. If that's what you really want to see, then we can see it."

Was that the right thing to say? Was that going to fix it? For a second, Ash wasn't so sure. Misty's face wrinkled as she took this in, looking confused. He had no idea what she was thinking. Her blue eyes were dull as she stared at him, and Ash looked at her expectantly, waiting for her response. She was probably going to laugh—Ash felt this unavoidable. 

Misty did just the contrary. Springing off her toes, she ran towards him, enveloping him in a strangling hug that made Ash gasp.

"Oh, thank you, Ash!" she cried happily, clinging onto his neck. "Thank you so, so much! I knew you'd come around!"

"Um . . . o-okay, Misty," Ash coughed, finally grasping his bearings to hug her back. Of course, she probably was hanging onto the conviction Ash was forced to say it, but nevertheless, she was enthralled, and that's all he cared about.

He maneuvered his head to catch a glimpse of Brock standing behind Misty, hands on his hips.

"I can_not_ wait to see how you guys come out of that date," he sighed.

* * *

Ahalf-an-hour later, Delia clumsily entered the house, seven plastic bags packed-full of groceries hanging precariously from her arms. Jay jumped up immediately from the kitchen table, and went to assist her. She breathed in relief as the burden was dislodged from her aching arm.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said as the two lugged the bags of food to the kitchen.

"How was the store?" Jay asked, glimpsing into the bags curiously. Delia had to smile—if it wasn't Ash snooping around for snacks and goodies, it was always Jay.

"Wiped out," she panted, retrieving a bottle of water from one of the bags and helping herself to it. "Sunday isn't the best day to go shopping."

"Well, it certainly looks like you got a lot," Jay observed. He had begun emptying the bags, placing most of it on the counters. Delia took another slurp of the refreshing liquid, and went to help him, snatching the bag containing the meats.

"Yeah, I did," she said. "But all the sale items are usually gone." She picked up a rather large flank steak and rolled her eyes. "Twelve bucks for this piece of meat. Can you believe it?"

Jay's eyes widened at the sight of it—who cared about the cost, that was one big piece of meat! Delia sauntered over to the freezer and stuffed it in, moving around a couple of boxes of ice cream and frozen vegetables to get it to fit. As she did, Jay peered into the bag from which she was taking from, and almost gasped at what he saw. Aside from the steak, there were two whole chickens, London broils, and a pork loin—all _huge_. He gaped at the amount of food in disbelief.

"Delia, why'd you buy so much meat?" he asked as she returned. 

She shrugged impassively and grasped one of the chickens. "I have three hungry kids to feed. And you," she added, tickling his chin.

"But . . . but, honey," he stammered, "this is so much work! I mean, whole chickens? Do you have the time to make that?"

Delia gave him an odd look. "What's the matter? Of course I do! I don't mind."

_But I do . . ._ Jay felt himself thinking. He knew she liked to cook, but at times he wondered if she did too much. Cooking these elaborate suppers were tiring, and at the same time, they were also expensive. Jay couldn't even ponder how much the meals cost, or how much of a difference feeding two extra mouths made . . .

Delia seemed to disregard it, continuing to put the food away. Seeing her literally dragging herself exhaustedly around, Jay decided to snap out of it and halted her before she went for more.

"I'll finish here, Del," he said with a smile, escorting her out of the kitchen. 

"What? Oh, okay," she gave in easily, seizing her pocketbook from the table. "You sure?" 

Jay nodded, motioning for her to leave. Delia thanked him with a grin and strolled out of there in a second, heading towards the bathroom with her pocketbook clutched close to her chest. A feeling of giddy excitement shot through her. 

She closed the door to the bathroom quietly, and pulled out from her pocketbook a small brown paper bag. Grasping it tightly in her trembling hands and staring down at it, anticipation flared in her veins and her heart pounded intensely. Here went nothing.

The waiting was painstaking, and all she could do was shake and think. As the few long minutes passed, her doubt plagued her, waging war with her high hopes. Ever since the day Jay asked her if she thought she was possibly expecting, and even more so since the night they had beforehand, small inklings of great prospect sent shivers up her spine. Delia needed to know, and she wasn't sure if she could bare the wait anymore. 

The short time was up, but for her, it felt like years. She took deep breaths in a desperate attempt to calm her twisting stomach. In an instant, all the times she had performed this nerve-wracking ordeal flew to her mind. All had been a disappointment, all had led to a dismal answer. But it couldn't this time. She wouldn't accept it. Her arms were shaking incessantly as she lifted the tiny test to her eyes, gulping heavily.

_Please, please, please,_ she prayed, squinting nervously. _Oh God, please . . . _She was almost reluctant to look, and remained that way for a good couple of seconds before finally taking a peek. Her lungs filled rapidly with air and her heart took a tremendous leap in her small chest, while her fingers clamped furiously on the flimsy, foretelling piece of plastic.

The flimsy piece of plastic that revealed a positive sign. She was pregnant.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

_Whoah-oh! I can type again! I've been writing this story with a busted keyboard for some time now . . . I, uh, spilled soda all over it. ;;; Yeah, not good; it was sticky and grimy and . . . turned a weird yellowy color . . . o.O Oh, and try writing without a backspace key and a spacebar that you practically have to slam to work. See how dedicated I am? Well, I bought a new keyboard yesterday, so writing will be much easier from now on. _

_Hope you're enjoying BH! The chapters are going to get a tad longer now, but you don't mind that, right? Good stuffs to come . . . Thanks for reading!_


	4. Responsibilities

**Blue Heaven**

By Spruceton Spook

Part 4

Responsibilities

Ash, Misty, and Brock had all intentions of going out and enjoying the beautiful weather. And they did . . . for a whole half-an-hour. The heat was just too unbearable, the humidity smothering them and covering them in a clammy, sticky sweat. Normally, when they were on their travels, they would have no choice but submit themselves to the muggy conditions, but since the alternative of a cool, air-conditioned house was at hand, it didn't take much to choose which was more appealing.

Ash honestly didn't think he could wait for his parents' wedding day for the heat wave to break. Not only did it drain his energy, but he felt that Pokémon training seemed totally out of consideration, cruel even. The relief from the torturous sun was refreshing, but they soon discovered themselves contemplating something to do to pass the time within the limits of the house. Watching television and burning their eyes on video games didn't seem too enticing; they had done enough of that lately and it was gradually becoming redundant. 

Finding fun was easy, though, when Ash decided on a whim to drag out his old Scattergories game. For the next three hours, the kids were fully occupied with the game, going from giggling insanely to sitting in deep silence and concentration, scribbling chicken-scratch on their sheets as the timer buzzed perilously, threatening to snap to a sudden end. Pikachu and Togepi, intrigued by the momentary, thoughtful trance that had apprehended their trainers, watched the game unfold inquisitively. It was eventful, full of humor as well as exasperation.

They reached the final round of the ultimately last game, and while Ash posed absolutely no threat in conquering, Misty and Brock found themselves battling it out till the bitter end. The die was currently displaying the letter "B."

"Okay," Misty said, putting a check-mark next to her last correct answer. She cleared her throat, and held the paper to her face. "'Things Found in the Ocean.'" She smiled lightly at the subject. "Barnacles."

"Boats," Ash said proudly, smiling that he got another right answer. Scattergories, though entertaining, was not his best game. 

Misty nodded in approval and turned to Brock, who was displaying a sly smirk. He'd become rather famous in the game for his witty and clever answers, and this time proved no different.

"Bikini bottoms," he said coolly, giving himself a complacent thumbs-up.

"_Bikini bottoms?_" Misty exclaimed. Ash erupted in laughter and applauded. "Brock, that's terrible!"

"And that's times two!" he grinned, holding up two fingers. 

"Ugh, one track mind," muttered Misty, throwing it away. At least she had gotten a point for her simple answer. "Let's see, last one—thank God. 'Cereals.' Bran Flakes."

"Basic Four!" Ash chimed, then whooped energetically as once again neither of them disputed. Pikachu, getting the hang of it, cheered and twitched his ears in Ash's favor.

"Booberry," Brock said, a victorious smile sweeping across his face as he went to check off his final and winning answer.

"What?" Misty gasped. "Booberry? _Booberry?_" She tossed her pencil at him annoyingly. "What the heck is that?"

Brock scowled softly at her. "Booberry!" he repeated, throwing the pencil back at her. "You _never_ had Booberry?"

Hearing his incredulous tone, Misty shrugged, clueless. "I never even heard of it."

"Oh, come on!" Brock cried, stunned. "Booberry! It had a ghost on the box, don't you remember?"

Misty face twisted befuddledly, the cereal not ringing a bell. "Did you ever have that?" she asked Ash.

"Nuh-uh," Ash shook his head.

Brock just gaped. "I can't believe you guys never had Booberry. Man, you were deprived!"

Misty had quite enough by that time, and closed her game booklet with a groan. "Whatever. I can't believe I lost the game to dumb answers like those."

Brock chuckled, and gently slipped his pencil into the slot designated for that purpose. "Oh, stop. You did really good."

Misty considered it. "Yeah, you're right," she decided, laughing. "Unlike _some_ people."

She turned to Ash and gave him a taunting smile, which he frowned at playfully. 

"Hey, I'm getting better. Cut me some slack," he said.

"Ash, you answered 'Ebenezer Scrooge' when they asked for _'athletes'_!" she said, rolled her eyes.

"The timer was running out!" Ash defended himself, hands flying about wildly. He couldn't hold back a giggle. "I had to put _something_ down!"

Misty shuddered, but snickered as well. "You're weird." She stretched her arms up above her head and yawned loudly. "That's it for me today."

"Yeah, me too," Brock agreed, leaning back on the couch.

Although Ash was eager enough to play another game, he didn't protest their decision. He reclined in the loveseat, mimicking his wearied friends struck by laziness. The room was quiet again, the only sound breaking the serenity being the monstrous rumble of the lawnmower passing by the window along with Jay every few minutes. Ash sniffed the air, seasoned with the strong scent of fresh-cut grass, and smiled.

Hearing the stillness that had taken over the living room, Delia emerged from the kitchen, her eyes sweeping over the cozy, tranquil setting. It was quite a change from the ruckus resounding from the room the entire day, and she was curious to see what had suddenly engaged them. Seeing them sitting so calmly and hearing Jay working so tirelessly out in the heat brought a smile to her face, that among other things that had induced the same action throughout the day. For a moment, she didn't draw their attention; she just stood and watched, her hand tenderly and subtly running over her stomach. She didn't know if she could feel any more wonderful, her innards begging to spread the happiness with her family.

Delia decided for the time being, however, that she wasn't going to proclaim the joyful news. She had yet to grasp the fact that she was pregnant herself. It seemed like a wild dream, something that was going to crash back to reality before she knew it. But it was real; it was true. Keeping it secret that day was hard enough, and she didn't know how she could possibly wait for the wedding to share the announcement. Feeling it was the perfect time and place to let Jay and the kids know, she strictly willed herself to conceal it for the next three weeks. It was going to be hard, but picturing the blissful moment in her mind made the arduous wait all the more worth it.

"Oh good, you kids are finally done," she spoke at last. They all turned and gave her dainty smiles. "I could use some help with the salad. It would make dinner a lot sooner. Any volunteers?"

Brock raised a finger into the air immediately. "That would be me!" he said, jumping up and trotting eagerly to the kitchen. 

Misty got up as well. "Is there something I can help with, too?" she asked.

Delia gave her a face. "Of course, there's always something to do!" She grinned. "Go help Brock."

Misty smiled and started off to join Brock in the kitchen. Seeing Ash getting up behind her out of the corner of her eye, she quickly spun around and pointed at him stringently. 

"And you clean up the game," she ordered, friskily sneering. 

Ash stopped short. "What?" he simpered. "No, you clean it up!"

Misty sighed. "Ash, I'm helping with the dinner," she said, dragging it out carefully as if he missed it the first time. 

"Well, I'm gonna help with the dinner, too," responded Ash just as gingerly, lowering to a whisper to put more emphasis to it. The roar of the mower stopped, making him avert towards the front yard for a moment, and then back at her silly face.

"No, you lost," she replied, giggling. "Losers clean up the game."

She didn't even wait for a reply, promptly turning her back on him. Ash's jaw dropped as she made a point to stick her tongue out at him beforehand.

"I'm not cleaning up the game!" he refused, his grin still present but tone hardening. "You lost too, so come and help me with it!"

Misty slumped wearily, limping to face him again. "Ash, I'm not helping you put it away! Just do it! It's not that hard."

Witnessing her boy's disgruntled look, Delia chortled and tilted her head. "Ash honey, just clean up the game," she said gently, her tone persuading him to yield. "Misty and Brock are making the salad. You can do that."

Misty, overly satisfied with Delia's aid, snubbed her nose in the air and waltzed to the kitchen.

Ash watched her go, then looked down at the game that was strewn across the coffee table. It wasn't that much of a big deal really, and he knew that. Still, the concept that he was the "loser," and therefore placing him in the undignified position of clean-up, unnerved him slightly. Like he was going to give into that! He arched his back and glared at his mother, his pride beginning to bolster.

"I don't wanna clean up the game, though," he grumbled, folding his arms in front of him. "They played too, so I don't see why they shouldn't help!"

Though his tone was pompous, Delia smiled delicately. "Ash, stop it. It's just a little mess," she said. "Listen, if you're so willing to do something to help, clean up the game and then there's some laundry you can do. Oh! And there's garbage to take out while you're at it, also."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Ash cried with wide eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with the work being thrown his way. All he wanted to do with help make the salad with his two friends, and now he found himself with a list of jobs. He straightened his arms at his side stubbornly. "I don't want to do that, I just want to help with the dinner! Why do I have to do all this work?"

Delia's smile was slowly fading as Ash's grumpy manner was starting to get annoying. "Because they're some chores, which you're a little behind in, I might add. So why don't you get to 'em?"

"Aw, come on!" Ash frowned, shambling doggedly to her. At the same time, Jay came in through the patio door, wiping sweat off his shiny brow. He smiled as he was greeted with the sight of his wife and boy, but was quickly taken aback as Ash's sulky defiance rang out.

Ash threw a glance at Jay, but returned to face his mom. "Why are you guys making me do all this dirty work while you just get to cut lettuce?"

"They're not making you do the dirty work—I am," Delia replied, motioning to herself. "And it's not dirty work. The laundry is clean!"

"I don't care!" Ash whined. "I just don't think it's fair, that's all."

Jay had gotten the essence of this contention with just the short time he was present, and voiced his opinion. "Ash, Misty and Brock are our guests. They don't have as many responsibilities as you do."

"Yeah, but still!" was all Ash could come up with, not having much to support his side of the discord. He didn't know why he was making such a clash out of this, and he really didn't want to, either. Deep down, a little voice within him told him to just be quiet and clean the stupid game up, as it wasn't really that horrible as he made it seem. It wasn't that he disagreed with his dad, but his input in just this situation didn't settle well with his temperament.

"ASH!"

The three Ketchums jumped as the aggravated voice of Misty thundered from the kitchen. "Just shut up and do what you're told and stop acting like a baby!" 

Ash's heart tightened at the sound of it, his face reddening. If being ordered around by his parents was one thing, Misty taking their side was just the clincher. In a pure act of petulance and adamant resolve, Ash kicked the table viciously, sending a vase full of flowers and a portion of the game spilling to the floor, as well as Pikachu scampering in alarm to the other side of the room.

"Hey!" his parents barked simultaneously. 

"Knock it off!" Jay shouted, shocked by his son's childishness. He pointed rigidly at the floor. "Pick it up _right _now!"

Ash flinched away from him sheepishly, ashamed from his unexpected action. He knew he shouldn't have done that as soon as his foot was in the air, not meaning to kick the table _that_ hard. "Sorry," he mumbled, but regained himself to put on a haughty pout once again. He bent down and started to pick up the sheets of paper and flowers without another word, feeling his mother's stern stare burning into him. 

"Do the wash after that and stop complaining," she told him in a dense tone, leaving for the kitchen. Ash kept his head down as he felt his father brush past him, heading for the same place. Swallowing hard, he couldn't help but shake his head at himself and his foolish immaturity.

Delia was doing the exact same thing as she entered the kitchen. She never understood why Ash acted that way sometimes, how he could go from being polite and sweet to an uncouth handful in the matter of an instant. 

_And I can't believe I'm going to have another one of them_, she thought, almost making her laugh. Misty and Brock were already underway in ripping the lettuce and cutting the tomatoes, and looked up at her prudently. 

"Thanks for helping out, kids. I really appreciate it," she said, resting her hands on their shoulders and squeezing them good-naturedly. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He can act so immature sometimes." 

Misty and Brock exchanged a look, and both uttered a quiet "yeah," feeling in a way they had to agree. They did in some sense, knowing Ash could get a bit unreasonable at times. Being dictated to do chores was singly one of those times, without a doubt. That was one thing they picked up easily after spending nearly a month in the Ketchum residence. However, getting involved with these little family squabbles was sometimes apprehensive, especially when Ash was the center of the strife.

Misty blinked discreetly as she went back to work on the tomatoes, the incident hanging in her mind uncomfortably. Delia's irked and exhausted tone made her compassionate. 

_Ash, please—just stop being a pain. Just do what you're told and don't make trouble, okay? Please._ She sighed outwardly. _I don't like it when you act that way . . . _

Jay came up behind Delia, who was busy pushing the steak into the oven. His lips brushed against her ear as she rose, making her shy away squeamishly.

"Hey," he whispered, yanking on her ponytail, "at least we don't have to worry about him doing anything _overly_ mature, right?"

A smile returned to her face as soon as he said that, reminding her of the relieving information he passed onto her earlier that afternoon. It was another aspect that contributed to her elation, knowing that Ash was somewhat leery around Misty and the concept of being a boyfriend. It was utter release, to say the least.

"I guess so," she whispered back, every feeling of displeasure over her son's latest attitude lifting in a flash. "I'd much rather him throw tantrums." 

Jay chuckled.

* * *

Wanting to get out there as soon as possible, Ash cleaned up the flowers and the game in a minute's time, placing the contents in the box recklessly but quietly. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about the scene he had just created or the reprehension that came from it, but rather the lurching feeling of remorse that formed in the pit of his stomach. He tried to fight it down but he knew it was no use; he was experiencing just what he expected to.

He slid the top of the box over the rest and leapt to his feet, making a straight cut towards the basement. His body became taut as he passed the kitchen, turning his head away and biting his lip until he opened the door and descended down the stairs fleetingly. Slowing dramatically as he reached the bottom, he ambled towards the dryer with heavy feet.

"Ugh, I'm so dumb," he mumbled out loud, dumping his head into his arms and resting upon the dryer. He took pleasure from its warmth, still fresh from the recent cycle and sending a soothing wave through his body. _Why'd I have to go and do that?_

He lifted his head and opened the door to the dryer, yanking a basket underneath and reaching to pull out the tepid clothes from within. He slouched as he dropped them impassively into the basket, their balmy scent drifting to his nose. Although his eyes were on the job, the laundry wasn't the concern playing before his perception. His head floated, the remorseful feeling not fading, but getting worse. In fact, it wasn't much of remorse anymore; it was growing into something more jarring that stemmed from it—regret. Ash hated the feeling—it was certainly not new to him, and every time he encountered it, he always wondered where his head could have possibly been to bring him such grief. 

He'd made a fool of himself lots of times in front of Misty. He regretted many of the ridiculous things he did or said, which unfortunately happened a bit frequently. Not that they involved Misty directly or that they were even that important, but Ash realized that many people didn't know how sensitive he was when it came to this. Of course he was embarrassed about what occurred upstairs; of course he felt like a moron for starting it. It was just another thing to beat himself up over, but this time was different. 

_I should have just shut up and cleaned up the game_, he thought to himself bitterly, slamming the dryer shut forcefully and staring down at it. _Why'd I have to act that way in front of her? _

The strong nagging at his heart confirmed this was no light matter. He was downright repentant over the way he behaved, even though there were many times previous to this that he fussed with his mother in Misty's presence. But this was the first time he'd done it in front of his girlfriend.

Ash didn't know what Misty felt about him, but his views were nothing positive. Moreover, combined with the other things he had done in the past few days, who knew what attitude she was sporting now? The small quarrels over the wedding preparations, the business about the movie and the unfriendly pillow fight that followed it, and now this . . . 

_She must think I'm such a jerk_, he lamented. He reached down to retrieve the basket of clean wash, but froze right before taking to the stairs. He looked up to the ground floor, his throat dry. There was nothing surprising about the apprehensive feeling that struck him. The regret was intensifying, the worry over Misty's outlook of him sending a shiver up his back. But despite the skeptical anxiety, his eyes glistened with determination. 

_I can make it right with her_, he told himself. He grasped the handles of the basket tightly, tossing his head willfully. _Just . . . be good, act mature . . . you can do it. _

Feeling a new rush of enthusiasm fly through him, Ash shot up the stairs two-by-two, reaching the top and meeting with a invigorating blast of cool air. He never even realized how hot it was down in that cellar, as he could easily have mistaken it for his uneasiness. The sound of the others chatting in the kitchen brought back a slight nervous twitch, but he pushed it down and gently placed the basket of clothes out of the way of trampling feet, and made his way slowly into the kitchen.

Ash entered rather unobtrusively, and wasn't noticed right away. Delia was the first to, and he almost expected this as his eyes were fixed on her, derived from a combination of willingness for her to recognize his appearance as well as keep his attention away from Misty. 

His mother looked him over with a censuring glance as he stood there warily. "Did you get the laundry?" she asked, her tone still rigid and somewhat daring him to give her the answer she didn't want. 

Hearing this tone, Ash tensed irately, a sassy reply raring to escape his mouth. Remembering in an instant that Misty was present, though, he bit it back. He would have anyway, but nonetheless he cleared his throat and smiled softly.

"Yes, I did," he nodded.

He couldn't believe how great he felt as his mom smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, the statement coming out in a whiff of air. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Ash shook his head. "Nope."

"Where did you put it?" Delia asked, her voice growing even calmer.

"At the top of the cellar stairs."

"Will you fold it for me later?"

Ash grinned. "Sure. Why not."

Delia's smile extended. There was no effort in ever making amends with her. Ash felt blessed with that, but it left him wondering each time why he did so wrong in making her upset in the first place. Being the sweetest person she could be to him, she never deserved any of the trouble he caused her. 

"Good boy," she said. "I like it so much better when you're like this. Try to stay that way, okay, baby?"

Blushing, Ash scratched the back of his head, his gaze with her lingering momentarily before she went to attend to the steak. Jay had been standing there watching the whole thing, and gave him a gentle nod, mouthing what appeared to Ash to be: "Good job, bud." 

_Okay, you fixed it with two people_, Ash thought, smiling at his dad. _On to the next . . . _

He was so reluctant to turn towards Misty, but at the same time he needed to know her reaction. He wouldn't have been surprised to see her face pulled into a discommending frown, but he was in for a pleasant shock as he took in her brightening smile, harmonized with her crystal blue eyes staring appraisingly into his own.

Ash faltered for a moment, but managed to grin back at her, the heavy burden of regret instantly lifting from him. It was as though the entire ordeal disappeared without a trace. Her pretty beam brought a wonderful feeling back to him immediately, but more was mixed into it. It was vague to Ash, as he couldn't quite pinpoint what that certain feeling was, but it made no difference to him. He was happy, and that was the only explanation he needed.

The dinner went by, delicious and uneventful, everything wiped out and leaving no leftovers. Ash, as did the others, made no objection to helping clean up afterwards. He carried himself contently as he did it, playfully knocking into Misty a couple of times to get her to giggle. It was so much more fun being giddy than ill-mannered, and it was sure worth it when his mom embraced him in a squeezing hug as he placed his plate into the dishwasher.

"Thanks, cutie," Delia cooed, rubbing his back vigorously.

Ash smiled at her, Pikachu leaping to his shoulder and butting his head to remind him the other Pokémon were hungry. 

"You're welcome, Ma. Thanks for dinner—it was great," he replied, and off he went to join Brock, who was already preparing to feed his own Pokémon in the backyard.

Misty had reserved a little extra work for herself in pulling off the dirtied tablecloth, though she paused while doing so to watch the two hug and exchange such sweet discourse. She could never get over how much she loved to see them interact; it was so perfect at times. Sighing, she swooped down to take Togepi from the chair, and went to take the tablecloth to the hamper.

Delia saved her the trip, however, as she saw her pass. "Oh, Misty, just put it in the basket there. I'll take it down in a moment . . . or maybe Ash will."

She laughed, and Misty responded the same. She tossed the tablecloth into the basket and clutched the antsy Togepi to her chest, stopping before Delia before making her way outdoors.

"Mrs. Ketchum? Look, I'm sorry if I started that thing before," she said, squinting contritely. Delia gave her a baffled look. "You know, about the game thing? I shouldn't have called him a loser; that was just asking for him to be snotty like that."

"Oh, forget about it," Delia scowled lightly, waving it away. "That wasn't your fault. It was Ash who made it a difficulty."

Misty smiled humbly. "I guess so. But don't worry about Ash. He—he doesn't mean to act that way."

Gazing at her, Delia blinked in agreement. "I know he doesn't. I'm actually glad he sticks up for himself so much, but sometimes he does it at the wrong times."

"Yeah, I know," Misty chuckled. "But if he tries something like that again, I'll take care of 'im." She winked. "I'll let him know what a jerk he's being."

"Well, that's certainly less work for me," Delia replied with a laugh. "I'm glad I can always count on you, dear."

Misty giggled, jumping away affably to snatch her bag which Brock had conveniently fetched from upstairs for her moments before. She got up to see Delia still smiling warmly at her, filling her with a light feeling of fondness and content.

"Thanks for helping me, Misty," she said, brushing her ginger hair tenderly away from her forehead. "You're such a good girl." Misty closed her eyes pleasingly, as she couldn't help but relax at the motherly affection. She never minded that Delia liked to share it with the other two. It brought such comfort to her sometimes, making her feel welcomed and appreciated. Glancing up happily into Delia's face, she slid past her and made her way to the backdoor.

She paused before bounding out, turning once more to Delia, beaming. "Thanks, Ma," she squeaked, spinning on a dime and busting her way out into the yard.

Delia gaped as the door swung back into place with a clang, cocking her head in slight, but pleasant, disbelief. She stared at it for some time, her brown eyes glimmering emotionally as very slowly a coquettish grin took over her lips.

_Ma . . . ? _

"Damn, kids are out there already? Holy _cow_," Jay muttered, sauntering briskly into the kitchen, his hands full of Pokéballs. He drew Delia from her reverie, and she looked up at him with an utterly startled expression.

Jay's face wrinkling in worry. "What's the matter? You okay?"

Delia gazed at him for some time before finally smiling, letting out a laugh of amusement and astonishment. "You should've heard what Misty said to me just now," she said, her tone holding a sense of mystification. 

"Why? What did she say?"

Delia glanced momentarily at the backdoor. "She just called me 'Ma.'"

Jay's eyes widened in surprise. "_Ma?_ She called you Ma?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd she call ya that?"

"I have no idea," Delia shrugged, her smile growing larger. "She just did." 

"Huh," Jay said, grinning. "That's interesting. You—you don't have a problem with that, do you?"

Grimacing, Delia shook her head. "What? No, no, of course not, it's just that . . . it's weird! I'm not used to other kids calling me Ma." She began to laugh, drawing Jay in. "Those two must be getting a little too comfortable around here!"

Jay's laugh tapered off, and he cleared his throat. "Oh . . . yeah, m-maybe."

Delia was too enthralled with what just happened that she didn't catch the dramatic drop in her husband's voice. She continued to smile airily, recalling what Misty said to her over and over again happily. Jay regarded her, seeing that she was shocked, her face crimson with flattery. He was pleased with that, despite what he was feeling. At first he found what Misty did peculiar, but it made perfectly good sense now . . . and it worried him. But seeing how pleasantly flabbergasted she was, he wasn't going to say a word.

Of course, what Delia affably said next didn't feed that decision much.

"Guess I'm building up quite a little family, huh?"

Jay's stomach tightened at that, and he stepped back, licking his lips fastidiously. He fiddled with the Pokéballs balanced precariously in his hands.

"Yeah . . . sure."

Now Delia grasped this, and she gave him an odd look. "What's the matter?" she asked worriedly, striding slowly up to him.

Jay quickly shook his head as to throw it away. "Nothing, no. I'm—I'm just . . . shocked. You know, over what Misty said, that's all."

Her smile returning, Delia giggled. "What, are you jealous? You wish she would call you 'Dad' now?"

"No!" Jay slumped, amused. "No, no, that's okay. I was just . . ." Should he say this? It wasn't that it was a ridiculous concern for him to hold. After all, he was only looking out for her well-being, desperate to make sure that she wasn't overexerting herself. All the cooking lately, the cleaning, the way she was almost always tired—he didn't like it. He wasn't exactly sure how to tell her this, though.

"Just what?"

Her voice and stare were persistent, so he had no choice but to carefully go on. "I was just thinking a-about you. About all the extra work and cooking and stuff that the kids bring you. Not that I don't think it's great that Misty and Brock are here, I do! But it's just that . . . I worry that it's too much work for you."

The compassionate delicacy brewing in his tone made Delia slacken. For a moment, she had become suspicious, wondering frightfully why he had suddenly sounded so reluctant and wary. But looking into his face now, painted with gentle empathy, she couldn't help but hold his arms in her hands and gaze into his wavering brown eyes.

"Aw, Jay, you don't have to worry about me," she assured him. "It's not that much work, it really isn't."

Jay looked down, taking a deep breath. "Well . . . I hope it's not." He shrugged. "It—it just looks like it is sometimes."

"Well, of course, and you're right, sometimes it is," she responded. "But it's not a big deal. I enjoy all the cooking and the extra work for the kids, I really do! In fact, it's a lot of fun taking care of all of them."

"But all the time you take to cook and—and all that stuff . . ." Jay trailed off.

"Jay, I love that!" Delia declared, her smile in all earnestness. "What, you really think that it's a hassle for me?"

"Well . . . maybe sometimes," Jay replied inaudibly. Even though he absolutely adored all the savory meals she prepared and had to praise her on the way she kept a house full of active kids looking so fabulous, he felt troubled often that she was doing too much. 

"Oh, Jay," she cooed, giggling. She lifted herself on her toes to give him a quick, resounding kiss. "You're such a sweetheart."

Her husband flushed slightly, but continued, as his heart implored for more conviction. "I just want to make sure that . . . that you're not overwhelmed with all of it. Especially if . . . if maybe, possibly . . . we'll have a baby someday."

Delia, her face barely inches from his, quickly held her breath. Unbeknownst to his knowledge, her hand slid delicately to her stomach, which she stroked lovingly. If only he knew the insight of what he had just unwittingly said. Her stomach leapt at the thought, and her smile extended, Jay oblivious to the secretive side of it.

"I don't want you to be totally up to your waist in cooking and housework that you—you go crazy," he said worriedly.

"Oh, Jay," she sighed amorously, a feeling of loving rhapsody flying through her. "Don't worry about that yet." At that second, her heart beat vigorously, frantic to tell him. But she knew she couldn't; no, she had to wait for their special day, for that special time. "When the—if a baby comes, I'll be fine. All the cooking and the work, it'll be a pleasure if anything! I have enough love for _ten_ kids right now, and you know that."

"Well, I don't know if _I_ have enough love for ten kids," Jay joked, rolling his eyes drastically, "but if you're okay with it, and you're happy . . . then I am, too."

Delia's seriousness made a whole world of difference to him. He loved Misty and Brock, he truly did. He couldn't even currently imagine what the house would be like without them. However, the worry over his wife was always before all in his mind. Fearing that she was exhausted was something that ate at him constantly, but as she lifted herself up again to kiss him again passionately, everything else around him, including his thoughts, became obsolete.

They could have engaged longer if it weren't for the energetic, yet impatient, outcry of "DAD!" that launched from the backyard, tearing them prematurely apart. 

Jay groaned. "Coming!" he called back. His eyes locked back into hers affectionately. "Gotta go, dearest. My critters need grub." 

He scrunched his nose up, which she mirrored, and left, leaving her pleasingly in his wake. She watched him go with a smile that was hard to dominate, a love that was equally as hard to hamper. The fact that he loved her so much, and how much he cared for her happiness warmed her body intimately. Her hand still ran over her belly lovingly, gratified that she shared a bond, and much more, with such a special person.

* * *

The sun was finally gone as Jay and the kids recalled the last of their Pokémon, full from a bountiful supper and a lung-full of fresh air. The heat had still not broken, and the four dragged themselves into the house, the mugginess making them feel as though they had been running around for hours rather than standing and watching their Pokémon eat for twenty minutes. 

Cold drinks were the first things on the kids' subdued minds as they set foot in the house. Pikachu had hurriedly scampered towards his water dish as soon as the door was open enough for him to squeeze through, and Jay had immediately headed for his room, lured by his urge to get out of his sweaty clothes.

Delia was still cleaning up from the dinner at the time. Knowing this, Misty entered the house a little reluctantly. She had a smile on her face, one that seemed to appear effortlessly from her nervousness, and for a brief second or two she didn't even look in Delia's direction. Not that she regretted what she had called her or thought it was disrespectful—it was far from that. If it was, she wouldn't have even imagined saying it. It was purely a gesture out of comfortable and warm familiarity, and a little silliness, as well. The way she had spoken it, however, was considerably leaning towards the former.

Still she tried to keep her mind off of it temporarily, focusing it on something that was much easier.

"Ash, I'm hot," she whined lightly, giving him a shove. "Get us some drinks, 'kay?"

Ash groaned, but Brock pushed him, also. "Yeah, me and Misty'll be upstairs," he said. "Here, give me your Pokémon."

His eyes squinted from being exhaustingly overheated, Ash carefully dropped the Pokéballs in Brock's hands and nodded, motioning for them to go on their way. He limped in place jokingly as they went to leave. 

"Hey, don't collapse until you get the drinks!" Misty warned, laughing. 

"And don't collapse while you're holding the drinks, either," Delia added, rubbing his hat-covered head. "You'll be washing the floor if you do."

Misty glanced up as she said this, finding that Delia was looking at her. Not just looking at her, but smiling. She couldn't help but smile back, filled with instant relief as Delia gave her a hidden, whimsical wink. There was more to that wink then just the fact that they were messing with Ash together. An approval was formed silently between them in that moment with that gaze, leaving Misty to throw her attention modestly to the floor and breathe contentedly. 

"Come," Brock ordered, grabbing her arm. She grinned one more time at Delia, and allowed herself to be tugged away. Pikachu, whom Ash motioned to follow them, complied. 

Ash hauled himself to the refrigerator. His mom, taking a deep, satisfied breath as she accomplished relieving Misty of her noticeable dilemma, watched him with a glint of humor in her eyes. He jerked the door open, and simply stood in front of the open fridge, letting the chilly air blast into his face. Sighing, he bent down to grab three cans of soda, balancing them in the crook of his arm.

"Hey," Delia said gently as he closed the door. He looked up at her with a composed tilt of his head. "Why'd you have to be such a pest before, honey?"

Ash stole a glance at the floor, shrugging. "I dunno," he replied softly.

"You know I don't like when you act like that."

"I know," he said, guilt present in his voice. He shuffled around on his feet, as he didn't feel like speaking of this again and just wanted to join his friends upstairs.

"Why do you always have to give me a problem with the chores, huh?" she asked, giving him a rather pained look. "I don't ask for much."

Ash slumped. He didn't have much of an excuse, other than the fact that like nearly every other kid he never liked doing them. "I know you don't," he mumbled. 

"And the deal with the game," she went on, shaking her head as she recollected it. "Ash, you're a big kid and I know you can be mature. And overreacting over something so foolish like that was _not_ mature."

"I know," Ash said again, his eyes still branded to the floor. He repositioned the soda cans as they began to thaw uncomfortably against his arm. "I'm sorry for doing that."

Delia paused, regarding him with a small smile. "I know you are. But Ash . . . you know, you have a lot going on right now, and maturity and responsibility are a lot more important than you think."

Ash, becoming somewhat embarrassed over what seemed to unfortunately be the beginning of a long speech, groaned. 

"Mom, I _know_!" he exclaimed. "I _am_ mature and responsible! I'm on my journey all the time and—and I know how to take care of myself and get out of jams and stuff! I keep up with my training and my goals and everything! I know!"

"Yes, and I agree with you on that," his mother replied calmly. "When it comes to Pokémon and your training, yes, you do have a lot of responsibility. But when you're home and not doing that stuff, that doesn't mean you can go and act however you please, Ash. You're a good kid and everything, but would it hurt for you to try to take a little more responsibility for things around here?"

Ash was quickly feeling the effect of her admonishment, whether it be mild-spoken or not, and became desperate to get out of there. She didn't sound entirely beseeching, more like she was trying as soothingly as she could to get her point across, but still the worse part was the tiny feeling inside of him telling him she was right.

"Okay, okay, Mom, I will!" he gave in. Delia easily interpreted his tone, as these little lectures were nothing new, realizing how he was just trying to make it short and sweet. Licking her lips, she stared down at him seriously, drawing his jaded eyes to her own.

Misty, in the meantime, was dying for a drink. It wasn't even funny anymore as she paced around the room impatiently, her scratchy throat making her fists ball in aggravation. She didn't even tell Brock what she was doing as she stormed out of the room, intent on finding just what was keeping her separated from her precious beverage. If Ash had really collapsed, at least she could retrieve her soda and help herself before she choked to death.

"And what about Misty?"

Misty suddenly froze to a halt in the middle of the staircase as Delia mentioned her name. Unintentionally, she backed up a few stairs and out of sight, her ears pricking.

Ash lifted his head abruptly. "Misty?"

"Yes," Delia nodded. "You have a girlfriend now, Ash. Whether you're currently training or not, having a girlfriend takes a lot of maturity and responsibility, too."

"_Mom!_" Ash pouted, making Misty tense. What was going on? Why was she being spoken of, and in such the inflexible tone that Delia was holding? "That's a totally different thing!"

"No it's not!" Delia contradicted, her voice raising. "In fact, it requires a lot more responsibility than just doing a few chores! If you think you're ready to have a relationship with Misty, for _your_ sake as well as hers, I would think you can start to act a little more mature around here. Got that?"

Ash and Misty simultaneously gulped. 

"F-f-for my sake?" Ash murmured, sweatdropping. His question made Misty's heart speed up in suspense.

"Yes, for your sake," his mother confirmed. It was as though the words were just pouring from her mouth without restrain, her true feelings letting their presence known for the first time to Ash, and without her knowledge to Misty as well. "If you really want to show me that you and Misty can be together, you can start showing me that you're old enough to handle it."

Misty didn't know how Ash responded to that. As Delia made the elusive warning known, she despondently sulked back upstairs, rushing to the room before she could hear any more.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

_Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you have a wonderful holiday, and get everything you've wished for! _


	5. Double Date

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 5

Double Date

"Ah! Ow, ow!" Ash whimpered as he tugged the comb through his hair. It was more like yanking actually, as once again it got trapped in a line of knots that made his eyes water and glaze over. Despite the difficulty, he determinedly went back at it, gradually freeing the stubborn tangles. 

He didn't understand why this was so hard—he'd combed his hair earlier that morning. Well, maybe not as well as he should have, he begrudgingly admitted to himself. Still, he continued, the reflection of his tightened face wincing back at him in the mirror. Dressed in his best jeans and a fresh shirt, and his hat tossed up onto his bed to be forgotten for the night, he looked the best he had in a week. He found it amusing that he was making himself so presentable to just sit a theater, but it was no effort to remind himself that this was no ordinary trip to the movies.

In only an hour, he was going to go on his first date. And not just his first date—a date with Misty. Nothing was helping him settle down in this crucially short time, the ticking minutes doing quite a number on him. His hand trembled as he fought with the knots, grasping the comb to the point of turning red. The bathroom was getting stuffy, and throwing the comb aside and checking his appearance in the mirror once more, he exited, struggling with the doorknob with fidgety fingers. 

Ash couldn't believe how suddenly the day had arrived. It was amazing how eagerly anticipated days took forever to come, but this was an exception. It was almost as if it were a dire and reluctant event the way the week had sped by. It was hardly that, of course, but the increase of nervousness soaring in Ash's body wasn't making it completely welcoming. He was utterly going out of his mind thinking about how the evening was going to unfold.

Brushing off his clothes absentmindedly, he entered his living room quietly. His parents were nowhere in sight, but Misty and Brock were seated on the couch, flipping through channels on the television. 

Ash took one look at Misty and couldn't help but smile. Their date was no fancy affair, but she had happily taken the time to do her hair in cute French-braided pigtails, tied with little green bands that matched her shirt. Her shoeless feet were propped up on the coffee table, waving back and forth contentedly like she had no care in the world. 

_She's ready to go_, Ash noted, both physically and mentally. If only he could get the mental part down, and he'd be fine as well. Just looking at her created a swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

Stealing a glance at the mantle clock, Ash noticed that time was dwindling. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and feeling their emptiness, quickly remembered that he had one more thing to attend to—one very important thing—before leaving. Caring not to bother them, he slipped past them and to the stairs, which he ascended briskly. 

He approached his parents' room and rapped his fingers on the door softly, entering sheepishly as he heard the melodic response of his mom inviting him to come it. 

"Hey, Ma," he chirped, smiling as she turned from the mirror to greet him.

"Hi, Ash," she replied airily, taking in his neat appearance. "Wow, look at you all cleaned up! You're so handsome, sweetie."

Ash blushed, and modestly shrugged. Beaming, Delia got up and pranced over to him, and began to dust off his shirt and flatten the creases. 

"So, it's your big night, huh?" she cooed, going to fuss with his hair, parting it just right. Ash gingerly pulled his head away, giggling. "You excited?"

"Yeah," he replied, ruffling his hair up again. 

"Nervous?" she added, giving him a knowing look.

"A little . . ." Delia smiled slyly at him. "Well . . . maybe more than a little."

"Aw, don't be nervous, dear," she assured, barely above a whisper. "Just relax, go and have a good time, and everything will be fine."

Ash took in the advice pleasingly, smiling. It meant so much to him to hear that from her, as she had acted somewhat reluctant about the date the entire week. He knew she would come around, though. The way she was fondly looking him over now was enough to confirm that. She was giving him that eye, that unique little look of motherly pride and acceptance she displayed when he was about to embark on something special. She had given him that look the day he left on his journey, right before his final battle in the Pokémon League, and she was giving it to him now. 

"I know it will," he conceded calmly. "I mean, it's just the movies. I've gone to the movies with Misty before."

"Yes, but tonight's different," she said, a glint of excitement in her eyes. 

Ash took a deep, noticeable breath. _You're telling me!_ he thought, the butterflies going to war in his belly again. 

"Oh, I can't believe you're going on your first date!" she suddenly lamented. "You're growing up so fast, I can't stand it."

"Um . . . sorry," Ash chuckled. His mom grinned and pinched his chin.

"You're sorry!" she tsk-tsked jokingly. "No, no, don't worry about that now. I couldn't be any happier that you're going on your first date. It's such an exciting experience, and I hope you have the best time in the world tonight."

Ash smiled, and slid his hands into his pockets again. Delia tilted her head in calm delight. 

"So when are you going?" she asked, returning to her vanity to shut the lamps off atop it. "Doesn't the movie start soon?"

Ash licked his lips and began to wring his hands. "Yeah, it starts in a little bit; we have to go. It's just that . . ." Her eyes rose expectantly, and he cringed hesitantly, feeling a bit foolish. "I, uh, I think I'm gonna have to borrow some money for tonight."

"Borrow money?" she asked disconcertingly. "Don't you have any for tonight?"

"Well, yeah," Ash replied, "but I didn't think I was that low."

He scrunched his face up as his mom slouched, giving him a exasperated look. Nevertheless, she turned and grabbed her pocketbook from the chair. 

"Ash," she groaned a bit annoyingly, "you know, you could have told me about this a little earlier. I don't know if I have enough cash to give you!"

"I know," Ash sulked, approaching her slowly as she pulled open her wallet. He knew it was dumb of him to forget such an important factor, but he had to admit that through all the excitement, something was bound to escape his mind.

Delia leafed through her assortment of bills. "How much do you need?"

"Well," Ash said, glancing at the money and folding his arms innocently, "I need it for the tickets . . . and I wanted to get some candy for the two of us there, and then afterwards we're going to get ice cream."

His mom paused to give him another disgruntled, but harmless glare. It made Ash grin nervously and beseechingly, but Delia sighed, pulled out a twenty and a ten, and handed it to him. 

"Here," she said. Suddenly, though, she plucked it away, leaving Ash grasping at air. She held it high above his head and spoke firmly. "And I'm only giving you this because it would be pretty silly for you to take Misty out and not be able to actually treat her to anything."

"Got it, Mom. Thanks," he said sweetly, accepting it humbly as she returned it for his taking. "Appreciate it."

"Sure," she nodded, snapping her wallet shut. "You're lucky I had that to give to you. Next time, make sure you have money before you go out, okay?"

"I will," Ash replied affirmatively. He leapt up onto his toes to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and his mom couldn't help but turn her critical frown into a cheerful grin.

"So are you going now?" she asked, patting his back.

Ash nodded. "Yup. Gotta go tell Dad!" He twirled on his heels and bolted out of the room. A thrilling rush swept through his veins, pumping his adrenaline. He noisily promenaded down the stairs, and as expected, drew the attentions of his two friends.

Misty hopped off the couch in a flash, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "Ash! C'mon, it's time to go!" she cried giddily, meeting with him at the base of the stairs. She clapped her hands repeated and bounced in place, her short pigtails bobbing about her shoulders.

Ash laughed, and tensed as he could hear how choppy it was. She was no doubt in high spirits, totally raring to go. He was too, but unlike him, she held absolutely no look of anxiousness. He just returned her jubilant smile, feeling the tumultuous beating of his heart. He couldn't believe he was truly going to do this.

"Y-you ready?" he asked her.

"Am I ready!?" Misty squealed incredulously. She grabbed his hands and jumped up and down again. "Of course I'm ready! I can't wait!"

Ash beamed. Brock groaned, got up from the couch, and waltzed over. 

"So, you guys gonna abandon me now?" he asked, his tone of facetious disappointment. "Gonna go to the movies and leave me here all alone?"

"Oh, Brock . . ." Misty mumbled compassionately, giving his arm a friendly punch. 

Brock chuckled, waving it away. "Nah, nah, I'm just kidding. I hope you have an awesome time tonight. Really."

Ash and Misty smiled simultaneously.

"Look after Togepi for me," Misty reminded him, to which Brock immediately nodded. 

"No problem."

"You too, Pikachu," Ash called out to his Pokémon, who was observing their farewell from the top of the couch. "Keep an eye on Togepi for Misty while we're at the movies." 

Pikachu promptly nodded and uttered a sharp "pika" in agreement. Ash laughed, blinking approvingly.

"Ash, we gotta go," Misty announced again, tugging his hand impatiently.

"Oh, right," Ash replied, glancing up the stairs. "Mom! We're going! C'mon, Dad! It's getting late!"

Jay rushed in from the kitchen, his keys jingling in his hand. He was to drive them to and from the theater that evening, a job he'd eagerly volunteered for. Ash could swear that he was ten times more excited about this date than his mom was, his face radiating with immense ado. 

"Don't worry, you guys have time," he assured them. "We'll get there."

"Okay," Ash replied, then turned to the sound of his mother rushing down the stairs, her eyes lit up with joy. In her hand she grasped her camera, which Ash slumped at the sight of. Delia reached the bottom and held it up with a smile.

"Aw, no Mom, not that!" he whined lightly, but his mother would have none of it.

"No, come on now, you and Misty get together," she grinned, gesturing for them to squeeze closer to each other. "I have to get a picture of your first date!"

Misty didn't dispute at all, zealously grabbing Ash's arm and bringing him to her, flashing her bright teeth. Ash rocked his head back and forth stubbornly, but straightened, smiling gently. 

"Okay guys, big smiles!" Delia requested. Brock inconspicuously inched his arm into the picture and put bunny-ears over Ash's head. 

"Brock! Get outta here!" she laughed, quickly and playfully pushing him out of the picture.

Brock guffawed and hopped out of the way, allowing Delia to take the picture of the widely-grinning kids. As soon as the flash went off, Ash and Misty strode avidly to the front door, Jay right behind them.

"Now, don't forget," Delia advised. "Dad's gonna be at the ice cream parlor at _nine o'clock _to pick you guys up. Got that?"

Ash and Misty nodded, and Jay scowled softly. "Don't worry about it, they'll remember," he sighed. 

"All right," she replied, beckoning Ash affably over to her. He limped towards her, and she grabbed his head and delivered a sound kiss to his cheek. "Have fun."

"Enjoy the movie!" Brock called out, waving.

They bid them farewell, and Jay ushered them out the door and into the early dusk. Ash and Misty ambled over to his car side-by-side, just looking up at the darkening sky and purple clouds hanging over the distant horizon. It was a lovely evening. The heat hadn't been that bad that day, and it was just moderately humid. All the omens of a perfect date, they hoped in their minds.

They didn't say a word as they buckled themselves in in the backseat. Glancing at each other for just a moment, they shared a pleasant smile, not needing words to convey the feeling they were both experiencing. Tonight was going to be a big step, and they both felt it in their hearts.

Jay got behind the wheel and energetically buckled his seatbelt. Grasping the rearview mirror in his hand, he positioned it on the image of the two thrilled kids in the back. His eyes met theirs, glistening playfully. 

"Good evening! I'm Jacey, and I'll be your chauffeur for this elegant occasion," he bubbled in his attempt at a British accent. Ash and Misty giggled. "Where am I to take you and the pretty lady on this fine night?"

Ash grinned. "To the Pallet Town movie theater, my good man," he answered. 

"Certainly, sir," his dad said, starting the car and pulling away towards town. 

Ash and Misty were laughing quietly, exchanging a silly smile. Jay stared at them in the mirror happily. He knew he could break the ice. Despite their smiles and laughs, they were incredibly fidgety and slightly fearful. It was confirmed as they uttered not a sound the entire way to the theater, each looking out their respectable windows as the landscape rolled by. 

The ride was short, and before they knew it, they were surrounded on either sides by the quaint storefronts and high, old-fashioned streetlights of downtown Pallet. Ash and Misty took in the sights of the interesting little town, small smiles coming to their faces. They drove down a major portion of the main road before Jay swung into a parking space in front of the theater, which had quite a line of Saturday night movie-goers emerging from it. 

"All right, kiddies," he said, the accent disappearing. They didn't move, and Jay glanced over his shoulder at them in the back. "You know when I'll be here for you. Have a good time, you hear?"

"We will," Misty smiled, unlatching her belt and bounding out of the car. Ash, faltering for a moment, fumbled to open his door.

"Oh, and Ash," Jay whispered to him before he had a chance to get out. Ash leaned forward so that his dad could talk into his ear. "Try and survive through the mushy movie."

Ash laughed nervously and nodded. "Don't worry, Dad, I'll try my best."

All of a sudden, his door swung open and Misty jerked him out by the arm. "Come on, Ash, get out of the car!"

He yelped, but finding his feet, gave Jay a small wave, shut the door, and was proceeded to be dragged towards the end of the line by a very enthusiastic Misty. 

Jay had to snicker. He sat in the car for a few minutes and watched them edge closer to the box office, his chin rested on the steering wheel and gazing admiringly at his son standing there. Ash's hands were again buried into his pockets, scuffing his way forward as the line moved. He looked so apprehensive, so uneasy. His father felt a pang of compassion, not to mention love.

"Buddy, you can do it," he murmured out loud, willing it to Ash's mind. He smiled pleasantly, and geared the car into reverse. "Have a great time tonight—I'm rootin' for ya."

When Jay entered the house upon arriving home, not much had changed. Brock was back in his spot on the couch, the TV still blaring some random show, Pikachu and Togepi nestled in his lap. He looked over his shoulder for a moment, smiled, then turned back to the television. Delia appeared from the kitchen, eyeing him expectantly.

"They're there and safe," he said, knowing exactly what to say to satisfy her. 

"Thank you," she beamed, taking his hands in her own.

"You should see Ash," Jay whispered humorously. "He's _so_ nervous. I feel so bad for the little guy."

"Well, after how much he's insisted he's ready for it, he'd better get through it," Delia pointed out with a smirk.

Jay laughed. "That's true. But I think he's ready. He just doesn't realize how much fun he's gonna have tonight."

Considering it for a second, Delia breathed deeply. "I can't believe our boy's out on his first date, Jay," she said incredulously.

Looking down, Jay smiled gently. "Me neither. He's really growing up."

At that, he shook his hands gently free, patted her cheek lovingly, and made his way to the kitchen. She stood there, a small, sanguine smile resting on her lips. She seemed to fall into a trance, thinking about Ash and what he was doing. Wondering where they were, she tried to picture them in her head. She almost hated not being able to view the date herself, as she was dying to know how Ash was coping through it. Just thinking about him being out there and creating such a special memory without her made her sigh forlornly.

Delia allowed herself to lift from the preoccupation, instead becoming aware of the blatant, slightly irritating channel surfing, each station's words and sounds brutally cut off with Brock's speedy thumb on the remote. She glanced over at him, her head cocked intriguingly. 

Brock had now lounged on the couch as much as it was possible, his head sagging and his eyes skewed. He was staring obliviously at the TV as the programs flashed by, a look of pure boredom dominating his face. Delia's heart fell sympathetically.

"Brock?" 

Brock's head averted to her immediately. "Yeah?"

Delia smiled softly. "Are you okay, honey?"

"What? O-oh, yeah," Brock replied, nodding assuredly. He grinned, and turned back towards the TV.

Delia watched as he continued to change the channels aimlessly. "So, what are you gonna do tonight without Ash and Misty being here?" she asked, her tone heavy with affable interest. She walked over to the back of the couch and gazed charmingly at him.

Brock shrugged impassively. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I'll find something."

"Oh . . . okay."

Delia couldn't help but frown at his despondent tone. Despite his nonchalant voice, she could detect disappointment in it. It was understandable, seeing as how this was probably one of the first times Ash and Misty went off to do something fun without him. Maybe he didn't care; maybe he was comfortable and didn't mind being left behind, but nevertheless, she knew there was more to it. Suddenly, a delightful idea sprung to her head.

"Well," she started perkily, "you know . . . if you really don't have anything to do, and you're kinda eager to get off the couch . . . we can doing something together if you want."

Still facing the television, Delia was unable to see how Brock's eyes widened instantly, his hand tightening on the remote. Gulping, he spun around to her, his face flaming with heat.

"Um, w-what?" he sputtered.

Delia chuckled. "Yeah, if you're feeling lonely or whatever. I don't mind doing something with you—we can go out on our own little date if you want!"

She grinned, and Brock broke into a cold sweat. A rather large, neurotic smile swept to his quivering lips. He almost dropped the remote, but his clumsy hands found it quickly and he clutched it to his chest.

"Oh—oh, that's okay, Mrs. Ketchum!" he laughed hastily. "I—I'm not feeling lonely, really! I'll find something on TV, I'm fine. T-TV is fine."

He abruptly froze, Delia's bewildered look making him perspire even more. She smiled right away again, however, giggling.

"Oh Brock, don't be silly," she said. "I can see you're gonna be bored tonight! Come on, you and me. I'll take you somewhere nice for the evening, how 'bout it?"

__

Sounds really good . . . he answered her inwardly, but swiftly shut it from his mind. Her voice sounded so enticing, so inviting, and she had a glowing face to go right along with it. Brock's heart sped up radically, not able to comprehend just what was happening. He prayed to God that he wasn't blushing like a bright red tomato. 

__

Oh my GOD! he thought crazily with grounding teeth. He gawked blankly at her, not knowing what to say. For a second, he just wanted run upstairs or outdoors or anywhere, escaping this slightly awkward—and tempting, but he didn't want to think about that!—situation. 

__

Say something, Brock! Stop acting weird, she's looking at you funny!

"Um . . . no, no thanks, that's okay! I—we don't need to do anything. I'm not gonna make you leave the house or anything tonight!"

"Brock sweetie, you're being ridiculous!" she said airily, reaching down to snatch the remote out of this hand. She shut off the TV. "I'm not going to have you sit in front of the television all night like a log! And I don't mind going out; in fact, I would really like it! I can see it in your eyes that you want to do something! Come on now, what do you want to do? Anything!"

Brock stared even more as he realized she wasn't going to relent. Her pretty smile grew with each insistence, practically begging him to accept the offer. It didn't look like he had much of a choice. Of course, going out with Mrs. Ketchum was certainly not unappealing, but why did she have to call it a _date_? Did she just _have _to refer to it as that? 

__

Think of something unromantic, think of something completely_ unromantic!_ he ordered himself rigidly. He didn't want to act too uneasy, but it was difficult for him to think properly with her glittering eyes gazing at him anticipatively.

"Uh, uh, well," he stammered, trying to come up with something so totally undate-like. He needed to—for her sake and his. _Think, think, think! Come on, what can we do—oh!_

"Um, I . . . I could use a haircut!" _Oh, _smooth_, Brocko!_ _Damn—go with it!_ "Y-yeah, that's it! I could really use a haircut!"

Delia gave him a weird face. "A haircut?!"

"Oh man, yeah!" Brock responded, yanking at his spiky hair with a disgusted expression. "I haven't gotten it cut in _months!_ It's getting so shaggy! Look at it."

Cocking an eye, Delia sighed observantly and went to run a hand through his hair. Brock hoped she would accept it, seeing as how lame and absurd it really was. He wasn't good with rash decisions, especially ones that got him out of odd circumstances such as these. It wasn't everyday Mrs. Ketchum asked him out on a _date_. The thought of it made his stomach lurch excitedly, to which he forcefully rebuked himself of. 

"Hmm, yeah, I guess you could use a cut. But Brock, dear, we can do that any time!" she chuckled. "We can do something _fun_ right now!"

"Yeah, but I'd _really_ like to get my hair cut!" Brock persisted, though Delia had no idea how desperate that persistence really was. "Beside, that _is_ fun! And—and I don't know where there's a good place or anything near here, so th-that's where I'd like to go!"

For a moment, she didn't look like she was going to accept it, but finally shrugged. "Well, okay then," she agreed. "If that's what you want to do—"

"Yeah, that's what I want to do!" Brock confirmed quickly.

Delia grinned, and rubbed his shoulder robustly. "All right. We'll go get you a haircut. I'll take you to the place I go to—and hey! We can get some dessert or something somewhere afterwards. How does that sound?"

Brock grinned at how ecstatic she sounded, but his own insecurity was still nagging him. He felt idiotic over it, but he knew that it was going to be fun. He was going to get a haircut and dessert, and he didn't have to spend the whole night in front of the TV, which he undoubtedly was not looking forward to. This wasn't going to be bad at all, and his sincere, yet still jittery smile proved that.

"Sounds great!" he cried.

"Okay, well, you go out to the car, and I'll be there in a minute," she told him. 

Brock nodded, watching her as she whirled around spryly and darted into the kitchen. At that point, he let out a huge breath of relief, dumping his sticky, flushed face in his hands. Now that was a weird, embarrassing moment if he ever experienced one. 

"Well, Pikachu," he said softly. He took a glimpse at Togepi, who was moments away from slumber. "Looks like you're gonna have to keep an eye on Togepi tonight. I'm off to go on a . . . date, too."

"Pikachu!" Pikachu responded, and Brock could have sworn it sounded suspiciously like a taunting laugh. But he could see compliance in Pikachu's face, so he was satisfied. Giving Pikachu a friendly stroke on the ear, he rolled on his heels and stumbled out to the car.

Meanwhile, Delia had romped happily over to her husband, who was seated at the kitchen table with the paper held to his face. 

"Jay, Brock and I are gonna go out for a while," she declared, bending down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm just taking him to get a quick haircut and then we might swing around for some sundaes or something. Okay?"

Jay gazed up at her with droopy eyes, letting the paper down. "You're going out?" he asked, disappointment in his voice. "You're leaving me? What am I gonna do?"

"Oh, Jay, I'm not leaving you, I'm just taking Brock out on a date because he's lonely without Ash and Misty."

Jay gave her a puppy-dog look, which she smiled at. "But I have nothing to do," he mumbled. "I wanna go on a date!"

"Aw, baby, there's plenty of stuff to do!" she cooed, playing with his hair. She reached for the TV schedule in the paper and thumbed to the primetime. "Uhhh . . . ooh, here, look! There's a swimsuit competition on tonight—all those half-naked beach girls, you like that! And there's plenty of beer in the fridge, and potato chips, and dip, and all the junky stuff! You'll have a blast!"

Grunting once more with facetious sadness, he folded his arms in front of him. "Fine," he huffed, trying to hold back his smile, "go on. Go have fun without me—just like _everyone_ is."

"Oh, stop it!" she squealed, giving him a hug. "Now listen, I don't know when Brock and I'll be back, so don't forget to pick up Ash and Misty!"

Jay rolled his eyes and gave her a humorously pained face. "Delia, honestly, do you think I would forget to pick them up? Go on, get. Have fun."

Giggling, she gave him another kiss on the top of the head, and hurried excitedly out of the kitchen. Jay smirked, lifting the paper back to his face. He didn't mind that he was left home while everyone else ran off to have fun. At least he'd have a ton of stories to look forward to at the end of the night.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

Ash and Misty will be enjoying their date next year! *snickers* Or will only one of them be enjoying it? ^__^;;; Happy New Year! Time to watch hours upon endless hours of the Twilight Zone_ marathon once again! ^^_


	6. First Comes Jealousy

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 6

First Comes Jealousy

"Ash, go! We're next!" Misty exclaimed, pushing the distracted boy forward to the ticket window. Ash was brought abruptly from his pensive little world of thought, staggering but quickly taking hold of himself. 

"Oh . . . oh right."

He was slightly hesitant as he approached the window. Misty was grappling hard onto his arm, completely and excitedly restless. She was smiling elatedly, just as she had been for the entire ten or so minutes they were on line. Ash tried to look somewhat composed as he smiled nervously at the ticket taker behind the glass, a tall, apathetic-looking teenage boy with slicked, gluey hair. The boy gave them a suspicious eye, making Ash gulp humbly.

"Um, two for _First Comes Love_, please," Ash stammered, sliding a twenty under the glass. Misty squeezed him, stifling a giddy squeal. 

The boy placed a hand on the money, but paused and cocked his head skeptically at Ash. "How _old _are you?" he came out and asked.

"Huh?" Ash gasped, his face wrinkling baffledly.

The teen didn't reply, just continued to look down on him. Ash didn't understand, but at that moment he really wanted the tickets rather than an explanation. He felt eyes on him as it was—buying tickets for the sappy movie was embarrassing enough, and the longer it was taking and the more attention drawn to him was making him break into a horrible, sticky sweat. 

Misty suddenly broke in, grinning. "Uh—I'm buying the tickets." 

The teen gave them another odd look, but took the money anyway, shrugging. Ash scowled in offense, but Misty lightly poked him, giving him a small, consoling smile. Ash tossed his head, shooting the teen a stubborn, irked glare that was not returned as Misty received the change and tickets. 

"What the hell was that?" Ash spat hotly after she had to escort him away from the window.

"Forget it, Ash," Misty replied gently, taking his hand and placing his ticket and the change in it. "I just don't think that kid's used to seeing guys your age buying tickets for a PG13 romance."

She giggled, and Ash huffed crossly. "Well, that's tough for him. _I _do."

"Stop it," Misty smiled. "It's no big deal."

Ash slumped and went to challenge strongly, but instead stared down at the ticket in his hand, lowering his voice dolefully. "I wanted to buy the tickets, though. You weren't supposed to buy them, I was."

They entered the theater lobby, immediately invaded by the heavy smell of buttery popcorn and the loud chattering of moviegoers. The lighting became dim, save for the flashy neon lights advertising the assortment of tasty munchies.

"Aw, Ash," Misty gibbered, resting her head on his shoulder for a second. "You did buy the tickets! I just . . . assisted you."

"Well . . . maybe." Ash folded his arms. "It still would have made me feel like the guy, though."

Misty got the urge to give him a hug right then and there, his mumbled, dejected voice stirring her compassionately. She gazed into his glum face and smiled sadly, a crestfallen feeling overpowering her. She didn't want him to be upset, and as they made their way slowly past the concession stand, she abruptly halted them, her look lightening.

"Okay then," she said, pointing. "You can buy me some candy!"

Ash perked, a smile instantly illuminating his face. "Oh! O-okay! Sure, yeah! What do you want, Misty?"

He had broken away from her, and was now looking expectantly into her eyes, gleaming with the reflections of the faint overhead chandeliers. He fingered the bills in his pocket, eager to go and get her a snack. He couldn't believe how much this was exciting him, but after the episode at the ticket window, he was ardent to do something to please her and fortify his position as boyfriend.

Misty licked her lips deliciously. "M&Ms!" 

Ash grinned. "You got it," he confirmed. He glanced over at the huge, crowded line growing from the concession counter, realizing that purchasing the candy was not going to be a quick matter.

"Misty, why don't you go and get us a seat?" he suggested, turning back to her. "This might take a while."

Her face fell for a moment, not wanting to really part with him. The long line did look unappealing, but she certainly didn't mind waiting on it with Ash. Still, his tenderly persuading look bid her to go, and she found she couldn't contend such a face. If he wanted her to sit and relax while he did this, she had no objection. 

"Um . . . okay," she smiled warily in reply. She tugged at her pigtails. "Do you know where to find me?"

"Same seats as usual?" Ash smiled. He, Misty, and Brock always preferred seats smack in the center and towards the back, and she affirmed it happily with a nod. 

"I'll be there," she said anticipatively. "Hurry up, all right?"

"I will," Ash promised. She shuffled reluctantly away, glancing over her shoulder with a parting grin. Ash lingered where he was even after she left his sight, standing stiffly in the midst of the impatient pushers and shovers anxious to get to their respected cinema. Realizing that being taken over with his thoughts was killing valuable time, he sighed and ambled over to the end of the line. Upon establishing his place, his eyes scanning about tentatively.

__

So here I am, he thought, taking deep, shaky breaths. _Here I am . . . on a date._ It seemed so surreal, so unbelievable. It was funny how differently his attitude was now, too. A year ago, if he had tried to even picture himself being on a date this soon, he would have thought it uncanny. Not to mention he didn't show much interest in it, but that had all changed now; he was overwhelmed at how great he discovered it felt . . . aside from the anxiety, that was.

Not having Misty by his side felt unusual and left him rather lonesome, but it was amazing how much his nerves had calmed since she left his presence. It gave a period to catch his breath, settle into the situation, and meditate. He needed to think—needed it desperately. Although he had been going over the date endlessly in his mind for the past week and what he could do to make it go smoothly, he still had no idea how it was really going to ensue.

He was glad so far how it was progressing—except for the ticket purchasing. He didn't understand why there had to be a speed bump, and so early in the date! He could've killed that guy for belittling him in that manner, his stomach still clenching embarrassingly at the thought of it. But Misty was right—it really was no big deal. At least he wasn't going to have a problem buying the candy . . . hopefully.

Ash edged closer and closer on the line, observing the people around him. It didn't take long for him to notice that he was the youngest one there. There were many teenagers strolling by, but mostly older adults. No kids his age, none even remotely close. It gave him a slight bolster of pride, feeling mature all of a sudden. He was probably going to be the youngest in the movie, now that he thought of it.

__

The movie. Ash approached the counter as the thought of it came to his mind again. They were going to see a romance together—a _romance_. It wasn't that Ash had a problem with love movies, but the fact that he was going to be taking one in on his first date seemed cliché—and a bit frightening. He knew what happened in love movies—more specifically what happened on _dates_ at love movies. His heart increased at the thought, and he decided to put it out of his mind. No, nothing bad was going to happen tonight, nothing uncomfortable. Nothing he couldn't handle . . .

"Hi! What can I get you!?"

Ash was relieved to see a girl awaiting his order, smiling welcomingly at him, her tone peppy. He returned the pleasant gesture, requesting a bag of M&Ms and sour gummy worms with a silent, trilling voice. Her face became even brighter, swooping down to fetch his goodies enthusiastically. Ash liked her; and he _hated_ that guy at the window. He wondered off-handedly if there were any employee comment cards floating around . . .

"Thanks a lot!" he was sure to exclaim in an extra grateful voice, handing her the money and accepted his sweets.

Moving away from the counter and out of the way, he looked down at the candy with pensive, blinking eyes. It brought a wonderful and positive rush of happiness to his blood, causing him to lift his head assertively. He fell into thought again, but this time it was full of confidence. He decided there were no reasons to be troubled or apprehensive. He knew the smile Misty would give him when he gave her the candy, and how content she would be watching the movie she wanted to see so badly. Ash craved her satisfaction, and craved the awesome feeling it brought to him. Imagining her sitting in the theater and waiting for him patiently but fervently provided another remarkable, uplifting sensation.

With a genuine and brilliant smile, he dashed off to find his girlfriend.

Misty strode down the dark aisle of the theater, taking an inattentive glimpse at the ads flashing on the faint, large screen before her. Many of the seats were already taken, but she didn't pay much attention to her surroundings as she quickly slipped into the first row she found unoccupied, pushing the chair down and seating herself modestly. 

As she got settled, she let her eyes drift, inspecting the array of chatty individuals dispersed around the theater. She noticed how old they all were, and curiously she tried to find someone relatively close to her age. It was to no avail, though; most of the viewers were in their late teens or older. Misty couldn't believe the number of couples she picked out of the crowd—there seemed to be a swarm of them this evening.

__

I'm one of them, too, she told herself, biting down on her lip. It was too weird for her to grasp. She always dreamed that she'd have a guy take her to the movies, but never this soon. It seemed to come and hit her all at once, and feeling a little quivering jump of her heart, she let a smile slide to her lips. Her stomach fluttered excitedly, and she absentmindedly went to play with her braids again.

She waited there for a couple of minutes, ever so often twisting her head around to see if Ash was coming. She tried to be patient, but it was no use. The suspense of his arrival thrilled her immensely. A couple of times she tried to read the ads on the screen and solve the celebrity word-scramblers, but they were too boring and irksome. Her feet drummed on the sticky floor, which she grimaced at, but before she had a chance to change her seat, the lights suddenly dimmed, and the screen lit up with a crude cartoon persuading the viewers to grab a large soda and a mouth-watering bucket of extra-large popcorn.

Seeing the video made her antsy. _Ash? Where are you? Come on!_ she thought worriedly, her eyes nervously searching for him. She didn't like that he wasn't there yet, reminding her reluctantly of what happened one time at the movies. Brock had done the same thing—went off to get some popcorn, but the line was so long that he missed the first few minutes of the movie, and couldn't find Ash or Misty for the first _hour _of the movie. The recollection took hold of Misty, and her heart began to pump fearfully. She couldn't even begin to think about how miserable the night would be if she and Ash couldn't even find each other.

Ash had just walked through the door as the lights faded, and his eyes widened. _Oh man, how am I gonna find her? _he thought helplessly, scrutinizing the dark silhouettes of heads as he dragged his feet down the aisle. He didn't know how he was going to locate her—usually it was easy to distinguish her with her floppy ponytail, but naturally he couldn't have that aid tonight.

The two searched for each other, their nerves going crazy. It was starting to make Misty writhe in torment, and almost instinctively, her nails went straight to her mouth. She needed him by her side, and she wasn't going to relax if she didn't have that soon.

Suddenly, to her absolute delight and relief, she caught sight of a short, dark shape, lost and confused. That was him all right, and an exuberant smile spread across her face.

__

"Ash! Ash!" she called out in a coarse whisper. She lifted herself from her seat slightly and waving an arm in the air. _"Over here!"_

Ash halted in place as he heard her voice crying out to him, and his head immediately darted to and fro in search of where it was originating. The screen had since engaged in showing its ridiculous amount of movie previews, loud and apace, lighting up the darkened theater just enough for him to catch sight of her. She motioned drastically for him to come, and with a victorious grin, he hastened to join her.

His trip was short, but leave it to Ash to make a spectacle of it. Misty was smiling wildly as he made his excited sprint towards her, forgetting in the meantime how tight the rows actually were. Her face rapidly tightened to a painful wince as Ash's foot stubbed the side of the seat, sending him to the floor in a sprawling, thunderous crash that echoed throughout the theater.

"Oh God, Ash!" Misty groaned, both of concern and weariness. She rose for a second, but in just that brief a time, Ash was on his feet again, shuffling over to the seat as if nothing had happened. A few chuckles arose around Misty, and she drew herself in embarrassingly, but nevertheless gazed worriedly as Ash plopped into the seat beside her.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Ash laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Seats kinda got in my way."

Misty's look remained momentarily, but she relaxed into a smile. "You're such a klutz. I was worried you weren't gonna find me. Like Brock."

"Nah, I would've found you, don't worry," Ash assured her. "I would've searched all over if I had to." His mind quickly perked as he realized he was still holding the candy.

"Oh, here ya go," he said, handing her the M&Ms. 

"Thank you," she cooed, taking it friskily. In the darkness, she couldn't see his blushed face become even more so. She opened the bag carefully as the last of the previews faded out, popping one of the tasty little chocolates into her mouth.

Ash watched her as she did this, smiling gently to himself. It made him feel so gratified, but it wasn't enough to drown out the humiliation he'd gotten from his ungraceful misstep. Out of all things to do! Ash could feel the hot, awkward stares of those around him, labeling him as a blundering fool, but he really didn't give a damn what they thought about him. It was Misty he was concerned with, though he noticed that it didn't seem to shake her as she gave him a friendly nudge, noting that the movie was about to begin.

__

Geez, I hope this is good, Ash thought, watching the opening credits glisten on the screen. He was glad though—this is what Misty wanted to see, and the last thing he wanted to bring her tonight was disappointment. He recalled his dad's advice, how he might truly like it, and he let his stomach calm down a tad. Naturally, nothing was going to take away from the nerve-wracking tumults his heart was taking, or the jitters that ran through his legs. But he took a deep breath, willing himself to ease into the flow of the movie that would entertain him for the next ninety minutes.

There was one slight difficulty though—he couldn't. While Misty seemed already engaged, Ash squirmed restlessly. Realizing he was doing it, he quickly restrained himself, trying to melt into his seat and at least appear comfortable. He didn't want Misty to think he was _already _bored to tears with this movie—the fact was, he seriously wasn't. The opening scene, that which he could actually concentrate on for a good couple of minutes, was surprisingly not what he'd expected. He was waiting for some gagging kissing scene of some sort, but it was just the opposite. It looked kind of interesting and fun, and for a moment, he straightened resolutely. 

__

Just sit and watch the movie, he admonished himself. _That's all you have to do! There shouldn't be a problem here._

But it was a problem. It was a nagging, sinking feeling in his gut that told him he wasn't just here to watch a movie tonight. He wanted to; all he wished for was to view the film in serenity, laugh with the jokes, suffer as much needed through the mushy parts, clap when the ending credits began to roll up the screen. That's all he wanted to do. That, and eat his gummy worms. But he knew he wasn't going to get that, and as this realization hit him again, the squirming in the seat proceeded.

Ash didn't know what to do. He was sitting beside Misty, and yet, something within him told him that it just wasn't enough. Did she expect more? Was he _supposed_ to do more? Was it a disestablished rule that everyone just happened to follow that he was required to do as well? 

The questions plagued Ash mercilessly, and he nearly groaned out loud when he found out they had only been watching the movie for a grand total of ten minutes. 

__

I'm not going to survive through this . . . he thought direly, cringing. _I'm not gonna be able to do this . . ._

With trembling hands, he pried at the package of gummy worms, praying that he wasn't going to pull too hard and end up propelling half his snack across the theater. Miraculously that didn't happen, and as soon as the seal was broken, a handful of worms were crammed into his mouth.

"Like your gummy worms?"

Ash practically leapt as Misty's voice flowed suddenly to his ear.

"Mmm-hmm," he whispered back, forcing the clad of candy down his throat. "Yeah, they're good . . . How 'bout yours?"

"Yummy," she grinned, slipping another M&M through her lips. She then lifted the bag. "Want some? Here."

Ash didn't get a chance to say no before she grabbed his hand and poured some of her candy into it. He smiled and accepted it, tipping them gently into his mouth. Misty happily watched him crunch away at them, but when he offered his gummy worms, she rejected them graciously and averted back to the screen.

Instinctively, Ash went back to watch the movie, too. Swallowing the M&Ms almost mindlessly, he shoved more of his gummy worms right in after. He tried once again to make a meager attempt of getting comfortable, sliding his elbows over onto the armrests. He hastily pulled it back, though, as it collided gently with Misty's. She tugged her arm away on contact.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Sorry!" he apologized immediately, retreating.

Misty smiled. "No, that's okay!" she replied, settling her arm noticeably in her lap and motioning for the armrest. "You can take it."

"No, I don't want it!" Ash disputed, smiling also. "You can have it. I'm sorry."

Misty shook her head. "Ash, it's okay! If you want it, you can take it. I don't need it."

"No, really!" Ash said, firmly this time. He blinked encouragingly, assuring her it was all right. There was no way he was going to deny her anything, especially something so insignificant as the armrest. His tone nearly peaked to one of pleading. "I don't need it, either. I want you to have it." 

He didn't notice how loud he got that time, as Misty's finger went right to her lips and she ordered him to shush with widened, silly eyes. Ash clasped a hand over his mouth and nodded, feeling dumb. But she was amused, and he sat back in his chair, watching her place her elbow back on the armrest.

__

Okay, he told himself approvingly, _there ya go! You're doing something right . . . I hope. Just—go back and watch the movie!_

What _was_ going on in that movie anyway? Ash turned back to it and realized that in just that short time he was already lost. He had no idea who those two kids were, or what they were doing. So much for that.

__

Oh, what am I doing? he wondered despairingly. The theater was starting to become increasingly stuffy. _I'm screwing this up, I'm messing this up _so_ bad. I can't even watch the damn movie!_

He took a glimpse at Misty. In that moment, he felt somewhat bad for her. Although he was positive she was happy, he couldn't help but fear he was disappointing her. Sure, she was getting to see _First Comes Love_, and she certainly seemed to be enjoying her candy. Because of him, those two things were possible, and yet he felt as though he was doing nothing.

__

What should I do? he asked himself fretfully. Was he to hold her hand? Or the shoulder thing? Grounding his teeth, he quickly decided he didn't want to do that. It anything was so painfully common, it was that. Ash didn't want to end up following the same old routine, and would probably end up embarrassed if he did. But he would wind up even more so if he didn't do something . . . and _fast_. Misty was more of a romantic than anyone else he knew, and he was certain that she was expecting something from him. The littlest thing she was probably awaiting, but even that was killing him. 

__

Come on Ash, he prodded himself, _you can do lots of things. And you can do this too, now . . . You know you have to do something_. He felt his hands heat up as he clenched them tightly, but quickly he wiped them on his jeans, figuring that grabbing Misty's hand with sweaty palms wasn't going to be too enchanting. His flickering eyes darted to Misty's arm. _You're not gonna do anything right tonight if you don't _try_ it first._

A jolt of determination shot through him, and ultimately, that's all Ash needed. Taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes, he shakily lifted his hand and laid it atop hers. He didn't understand why this was hard; he'd held her hand countless times, but something about this setting made it new and significant—and scary, too. His heart pounded as he felt her flinch, but he couldn't look with her. He opened his eyes to position them on the screen, praying that what he was doing was right. 

Misty was surprised, but it was out of nothing but pleasure. She giggled, tensing as it came out somewhat apprehensively. Ash heard the laugh, but he wasn't sure yet if he was ready to look at her. He didn't know if he ever would look at her, he was too afraid. Swallowing the heavy lump in his throat, he smoothed his hand over soft skin, his fingers seeking to link with hers. He could feel her gaze on him, and sooner or later he would have to meet it. 

__

Oh look at her! If you can hold her hand, you can look at her!

Hesitantly, he let his eyes wander to his left, laying them first on their joined hands and then into her face. Even in the dark, Ash could see her broad smile, and could sense the twinkling in her eye. He smiled back slowly but surely, and without need for words, their hands lifted so that they could much easily entwine. They squeezed their fingers shut, melting in the warmth of each other's hand. Granted, Ash's was just a bit more moist, but Misty had absolutely no problem. She reclined, captivated with a pristine sensation of happiness.

They remained that way for the rest of the movie, needing nothing else to make it, up to that point, the most marvelous trip the movies either had ever experienced.

The film had flown by, much to Ash's surprise, and before he knew it, he and Misty were seated in the antiquated ice cream shop across from the theater. They found it odd that they were the only ones in there, seeing as how it was delightfully cool and such an attractive place to go after a long sit in the movies, but it was no doubt all the more pleasant. It was dead quiet, the only sounds the constant hum of the freezers and ice cream machines. It took no time for them to receive their sundaes, which for the first few minutes were devoured in silence.

"So how did you like the movie, Ash?" Misty finally asked, breaking the quiet with flighty eyes.

Ash smiled awkwardly, licking some hot fudge off his lips. "Oh, I dunno," he said, shrugging. "It was good, I guess."

It was a lie . . . sort of. Truthfully, Ash had no idea how he liked the movie. He hadn't even _seen_ the movie. Although his eyes and ears had been on it the entire time, his mind had been elsewhere. He couldn't take his thoughts off of Misty. To him, the screen was just part of the blended, hazy environment.

Misty grinned, and stirred her thawing ice cream around with her spoon. "It was really good; I enjoyed it a lot."

"Y-yeah, me too," Ash hastily nodded. _In the fifteen minutes I actually caught of it . . ._

She didn't respond, just looked down at her ice cream and meekly took a bite of it. Ash watched her, gobbling his own delicacy. After blankly taking in a movie, he was exhilarated that he was able to taste his ice cream. He had to admit that this second portion of the date was a lot more merciful on the nerves.

"Hey, Ash?" Misty suddenly uttered. Ash lifted his head and gazed into her flushed face, brightened with gratitude. "Thanks for letting me see my movie tonight."

It took no effort for Ash to smile. "You're welcome," he whispered in reply.

"I mean, I know how much you wanted to see your movie. It's just, well, that was so nice that you let me see this tonight instead."

__

Yeah, well, it wouldn't've mattered what_ movie we saw,_ Ash almost chuckled. _I wouldn't have watched it anyway . . ._

"It's no problem," he said. "I—I liked this movie. Doesn't matter to me. As long as you liked it, and as long as we . . . got to do this tonight."

Giggling, Misty scooped the last of her ice cream out of her bowl and licked the spoon. "Well, that's true for me, too, I guess. I . . . I'm just so happy that we did this, and that it turned out . . . well, perfect." Her eyes rose and locked into his, and the two shared a similar, modest smile. She chuckled, her voice choppy and retaining a hint of humility. "I think that no matter what movie we saw, it still would have ended up as great as it did tonight."

The effect of her sincerity reflected itself in Ash's stunned face, luminous with utter satisfaction. His body melted upon hearing it, washing away all of his preoccupations in one clean sweep. 

__

I . . . did it, he thought, feeling his face become hot with excitement. He swallowed roughly and laughed. "Really? You . . . you thought it was great?"

Sensing his insecurity, Misty beamed. Ash was always one that needed commendation and conviction, and she couldn't take any more pleasure in seeing how blissfully happy he was with his accomplishment. She knew he had been a bundle of nerves; he showed vital signs of it all throughout the day, and to see him literally slouch in ever-welcoming relief sent a wave of ecstasy through her.

"I don't think it could've been any better," she declared.

"Well—well that's awesome!" he exclaimed. Her face glowed, and he turned away. Her words soared through him, sending the most amorous chill up his spine. He humbly pushed his bowl away and glanced up at the clock, noticing it was a few minutes till nine. 

"You all done?" he asked her delicately, and she nodded. "We should go out and see if Dad's here."

"Okay," she replied easily, linking arms with him as they rose and made their way out into the muggy night. 

Jay was there right on time, sitting on the hood of his car and waiting. A smile swept from ear to ear as he noticed the two kids approaching, their arms entwined loosely. He was so amazed, so completely overwhelmed with the sensation of pride and joy surging in him at the sight. He didn't need to ask how the date went, since he could easily see it in their rapturous faces, but he did anyway as he opened the door for them.

They had nothing but good news to report. The ride home was filled with Misty's ravings about the movie, which Ash seconded—except for the romance parts, which he playfully frowned and gagged about. Misty punched his shoulder as Jay laughed, and the three were lively with hysterics as Jay pulled up the house.

"Oh hey! Mom and Brock are home!" he observed, seeing Delia's car in the driveway. 

"They went out?" Ash asked.

"Yeah," was all Jay replied, locking the car and dashing towards the front door, eager to see his wife. Spending the whole evening alone left him desirous to see her. They had not returned home before he'd left to get Ash and Misty, and the said two had no choice but to hurry off after him.

"Hmm, I wonder where your mom and Brock went tonight?" Misty said as Jay fumbled to unlock the door.

Ash smiled. "I dunno," he shrugged, inching his way into his brightly-lit house after his father and met, not surprisingly, by the high-pitched squeal of his overly-excited mother.

"You're home!" Delia exulted, rushing into the living room to greet them. Pikachu was right behind her, and leapt into Ash's arms in an instant, startling him slightly. "How was the movie!?"

"It was great," Misty replied promptly, her voice fervent. "Ash liked it, too."

"Hey, I can answer for myself!" Ash pouted in fake contempt. He gave his mom a cheeky grin. "It stunk."

Misty gasped playfully. "You _liar_!" she screamed, shoving him and inducing Ash to laugh heartily. The car ride was still stimulating their hyper nerves. "Don't listen to him, he doesn't know a great romance when he sees one."

"Oh, I know it," Delia rolled her eyes knowingly. "Try getting him to sit down and watch _Gone With the Wind_."

Ash narrowed his eyes. "Hey, I saw it!"

"Yes, the first half-hour of it before you conveniently 'didn't feel good,'" she tsk-tsked.

"But I still saw some of it!" Ash retorted. "And I really was sick!"

His mom shook her head, but before she had a chance to ask another question about the date, all heads were drawn to the top of the stairs as a very familiar voice rung out.

"Ash! Misty! Heeeey!" 

Ash and Misty's eyes simultaneously widened, accompanied by their dropping jaws. Brock strut down the stairs slowly, his head tilted nobly. But it wasn't his grand entrance that drew their amazed stares. It was his hair: cut shorter and gelled into sharp, crested spikes, a hint of blond dazzled the tips. 

"Oh my gosh!" Misty shrieked. A smile invaded her face. 

"Oh man!" Ash cried, eyeing his friend's unique haircut with a look of pure thrill and shock. 

"Look at that!" Jay added.

"Brock, you got iced tips!" Misty jumped up and down, as if he didn't know it. He just gave a crazy shrug and laughed.

"Yeah, you like it?" he asked. He ducked his head obligingly as Misty tediously wiggled her hand over his hair, letting the spikes lightly jab her palm.

"It's awesome, Brock!" Ash replied. 

"Isn't it?" Delia agreed giddily. "He was just going to get a normal cut, but when I saw him admiring this other boy who got it done, I knew he wanted it, too! So I suggested that if he really wanted it, he could get it."

"I wasn't going to, but your mom insisted," Brock told Ash.

"Well, I'm glad she did!" Misty said, still enthralled with playing with his hair. "It's so cool, Brock! I absolutely _lov_e it!"

"Heh, thanks."

"We had a very lovely time tonight, Brock and I," Delia went on affably. "Didn't we?"

"We sure did," Brock beamed, turning to Ash and Misty. "She treated me to this great haircut and then ice cream, too."

"Wow," Ash said happily, "that's great. Me and Misty got really good ice cream, too. Right Misty, wasn't it good?"

Misty, who was still gazing at Brock's new 'do with fascinated eyes, glanced at him. "Oh yeah, it was delicious!" She rapidly turned back to Brock and grabbed hold of him excitedly. "Brock, turn around, let me see the back! Oh wow, that is _so_ neat! How'd they do that?"

"Well, first they trimmed it and then they dabbed the dye on the tips and let it sit for a while," Brock explained.

Ash's shoulders sagged as his question pretty much went ignored. He blinked obscurely and held Pikachu in loose arms while Misty listened intently, gazing at Brock with a look of utmost amazement and intrigue. 

"Well, I think you look great with it!" Misty commented. 

Ash licked his lips and stood tall, adjusting a smile to his face. "H-hey, Misty, should I tell them about the dumb guy at the ticket window?"

Misty burst into giggles. "Oh yeah, that guy! That was wacky!"

Ash laughed, but as his mouth opened to add to the story, Misty had spun back to regard Brock once again.

"So are you gonna keep doing it?" she asked him briskly.

Brock shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on whether we can find a nice place to do it when we're out travelling."

"I just thought it would look wonderful for the wedding," Delia said. "If he doesn't get it done again, he'll still have the photos to remember it by."

Jay smiled. "That's true. Has to look good for the photographer he helped us hire, after all." Brock chuckled.

"Well, I hope you get it done again," Misty gushed. "It's so you! Don't you agree, Ash?"

Ash's head shot up as he was included all of sudden, looking with a dumbfounded expression at Misty's face, expectant for an answer. 

"O-oh, yeah," he stuttered. He glanced at Brock. "I really like it, it's so cool," he told him sincerely.

"Thanks," Brock said again, running a hand through his suddenly popular hair. 

A brief silent period then proceeded, and Ash looked down at his feet. Accounts of the first date raring to spill from his mouth, he found it rather difficult to keep them within him. He could still feel his heart pounding with thrill and anticipation, but slowly it was beginning to taper. It started to sink despondently, and to his confusion, he found he couldn't even look up to observe Brock's hair as he would have liked. Although he did find it cool, something about it already made it old.

"Ash," his dad suddenly said, breaking him from his sullen thought, "you were saying something about the ticket window guy? What happened?"

Ash gawked at Jay for a moment, stole a quick glance at Misty, who unsurprisingly was still marveling over Brock's hair with whimsical bustle, and lowered his head.

"Nothing," he mumbled, the humor and excitement over the subject since shriveled. Misty put in no enthusiastic input to keep the story alive, and Ash ultimately threw it away. 

"Oh," Jay replied impassively. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I think I'm going to get ready for the night."

"Yeah, me too," Delia grunted in agreement, reaching down to massage her stomach with a twisted expression. "My stomach is still killing me."

"_Still?_" Brock asked, cocking his head sympathetically. She had begun complaining about stomach cramps since the time they had started eating their ice cream, which was well over an hour before.

"Yeah," she nodded, frowning. "It's hurting a lot more now, though. Really bad."

Ash looked worriedly at his mom. "Are you okay?"

Delia smiled assuredly. "Of course I am, honey. It must've been the ice cream or something. I'll just have some tea and lay down, and I'll be fine." 

"Oh . . . all right," Ash said softly. 

"You should get ready for bed, too," suggested Delia, taking his face in her hands and shaking it lovingly. "You've had a big, long day, buster. All of you."

"I know. I'm goin' to bed." _Going on a date wears you out, but apparently nobody cares . . ._

She ruffled his hair and pat Pikachu on the head. Her light face abruptly constricted for a moment and she grasped at her stomach, but as the pain faded as quickly as it had come, she rolled her eyes and smirked.

"Last time I order a milk shake!" 

The other four laughed, and one by one they all scattered in preparation for the night. Brock came up to Delia and thanked her once again for a great night, sharing a big hug with her and wishing her well from her ailment. Ash waited for Misty before ascending to his room with her, giving her a gentle smile.

"What a night!" she said exasperatedly. Ash grinned as the thought of their fabulous date sprang back to his mind, figuring it was obviously what she was referring to. "I can't believe Brock did that to his hair!"

Ash squinted before turning his head away almost bitterly. He didn't want her to see his incredulous look, the one that displayed exactly the feeling that was building within him. That's all she could associate with the night: Brock's iced tips? He knew that Brock's haircut was the latest of spontaneous events, but was that all that was on her mind? Didn't she remember the special event that happened between _them_?

__

Why did you have to get that done tonight? Ash asked Brock in his mind, but then quickly shot the thought down, chiding himself. That was selfish. Nonetheless, as much as he hated the stubborn attitude that had suddenly prowled its way into his head, he couldn't help but feel something towards this new occurrence, a sensation that he didn't completely understand . . . 

TO BE CONTINUED . . . 


	7. Pains and Dyes

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 7

Pains and Dyes

Later that night, after everyone had been scurrying about preparing for bed, the house was finally beginning to quiet. Ash and Brock had been hasty in getting ready, but Misty took her time. While she showered, Ash sat with Brock in his room recounting the events of the night. It was hard for him to concentrate, however, as he found himself too busy scrutinizing Brock's hair with a critical eye. He felt awful doing it. He really did his hair, but the timing he still saw as devastatingly wrong.

As the time rolled by, however, his mind made scarce of his strong jealousy. Ash was glad, not liking the fact that he had retained the degrading feeling within him. It wasn't hard for him to realize he was jealous, but it was difficult to accept. The way Misty had acted towards Brock was nothing to get all flustered over, but having the spotlight of his big, momentous night taken away from him was a bit hard for him to deal with. Brock, he knew assertively, had no deliberate intentions of ruining his excitement, and he couldn't hold it against him. 

It hardly concerned him any further as he fell into the comforting clutches of his warm bed. It was eleven o'clock by the time Misty came back to the room. She was clearly tired, and Brock was certainly ready to hit the sack. Without further discussion, the lights were out and the sheets rustled as they snuggled deep within them. Ash thrust his head cozily into his warm pillow and shut his eyes blissfully. 

They were barely in bed for ten minutes before his name sounded gently in the darkness. "Ash?" 

He opened one eye, smiling. "Mmm?" he replied, letting the eye close again peacefully.

"Are you falling asleep?" said Misty. Her voice was haggard with sleepiness.

"I was trying," Ash replied, jokingly annoyed. Neither of their voices rose above a whisper.

He heard Misty get up in bed, and faintly saw her outline rise in the darkness. He was not completely adjusted to the dark yet, but he could clearly see she wasn't going anywhere, just sitting up.

"Lie down," he told her, his eyes involuntarily shutting and readying themselves for sleep once again. "Sleep."

"I can't," she sighed. "I'm not ready for bed—I want to talk."

Ash smirked. "Well, I want to sleep," he whispered back, pulling his sheets to his face to emphasize his point. Upon hearing her cheerful voice, though, his statement wasn't entirely honest.

Misty was quiet for a moment. "I had such a nice time tonight, Ash," she said finally. 

Ash chuckled. "Me, too."

"No, really. I had the time of my life."

"Good," he humbly replied, a happy feeling mixing with his delirious, slumberous mind. His voice dragged as he yawned. "I'm glad."

Despite his apparent drowsiness, Misty wanted more out of his responses. She tapped her fingers on her pillow silently but restlessly, memories of the date floating through her head as they had Ash's. She listened to his garbled speech and grinned. Part of her wanting to climb up to his bed, jump on him to rouse him, and get him to talk back to her.

"Let's talk about our date, Ash." Her voice flowed vivaciously.

Ash breathed calmly. "Okay." 

"What did you like the most?" Her tone was flighty, helplessly drawing him into a frivolous mood against his weariness. Not much effort was put into his vocal replies, however.

"Um . . . the ice cream." 

Misty laughed. "Why did I even bother asking?"

"Yeah, that was kinda obvious, huh? So, what did _you_ like the most?"

Misty contemplated it for a second. She honestly didn't know what she liked the best; everything was equally amazing in her mind. However, the movie stood out considerably, but it wasn't the film she was focused on—it was what was happening in reality at the same time.

She didn't want to be so bold, but she couldn't help it. "I liked when you held my hand during the movie," she replied with a deep, crisp breath. She almost expected the silence that followed after such a declaration.

Ash bit his lip, hard to keep his smile away as shivers ran through his body. "Well," he said, faltering as he didn't know quite how to reply, "you liked the movie, too, didn't you?"

She snickered, and tried hard to stifle it as she didn't want to wake Brock, whose lack of speech meant he was evidently asleep. "Of course I did, you numskull!" she exclaimed. "Ash, I loved everything about tonight . . . but especially that."

As she tapered off affably, Ash finally opened his eyes, quickly recalling something he had been thinking of for nearly a week, aside from the preoccupation of the upcoming date. Knowing this moment had to be undoubtedly the most perfect time, he leaned over the side of his bed to smile down at her. 

"Well then . . . how about we go out on another date?" he said, his voice drifting soothingly and eagerly.

With the way her body promptly shot up, Ash thought the bed had bucked her off.

"Really?" she gasped wildly.

"Sure," he replied. "I was thinking about it . . . why don't we go out to dinner? That's a good second date thing, right? 'Cause—'cause I want to take you out for dinner."

It was a tremendous step, but as his body quivered with the stimulation of her impending reaction, he didn't care. When she was ecstatic, he couldn't feel any more wonderful, and he knew this above all would exhilarate her. 

"Dinner?" Her voice was low with incredulous mystification. "You . . . you want to take me out to _dinner_?"

Hearing her awe, Ash smiled immensely. "Sure. Why wouldn't I?" he chuckled.

She was silent for a few moments, trying to grasp what he had just announced. "Ash, I . . . I would love that!"

Ash took a rewarding breath and lay back in bed, letting his head lazily flop to the pillow. "Good," he said in conclusion, yawning again. It was impossible for him to hold back the smirk that danced on his lips, creating such evil suspense. He could just image what Misty's eyes were like, how wide they were. 

"Wait, don't go to bed! Come on, tell me, when can we go!?"

He delighted in her childishly hopeful voice. "Next Friday?" he suggested.

"Next Friday!?" Misty squeaked, clapping her hands gently. "_Really?_"

Ash sighed, humorously exasperated. "Yes, really." 

Misty let out a whoop. "Yay! Thank you, Ash, thank you! I can't wait!"

Her last vociferation came out a bit too loud, and suddenly Brock's form lurched in his bed.

"Ugh, _guys!_" he grumbled irately. "Go to bed! Come on!"

Misty threw a hand to her mouth. "Oops," she whispered guiltily. "Sorry, Brock."

Brock responded by flipping over in his bed and groaning tiredly. Misty, feeling bad that she had awakened Brock but completely content with her discussion with Ash, lowered her voice to barely anything.

"Good night, Ash," she whispered sweetly. "You're the best! I can't wait!" She lay down and brought Togepi lovingly to her chest, shutting her eyes. 

Ash grinned, shaking his head at Misty's silliness. "Night, Misty," he answered, his soft voice waning as he succumbed to slumber. 

While the kids were finally falling asleep, Jay waltzed sleepily down the hallway and towards his room, yawning heavily. He stretched his arms out, uncramping them from the effect of lounging in front of the TV for the greater part of the night. Delia sat with him for a while, sipping her tea quietly, and had turned in a few minutes beforehand. Feeling lonely without her presence, Jay felt inclined to go to bed as well.

Their bedroom door was closed, and he opened it delicately, sticking his head through first. The light was still on, and he grinned, hoping to see her sitting restfully in bed awaiting his arrival. The happiness in his face quickly drained, however, as he was met with just the opposite.

"Delia? What's the matter?" he asked worriedly, approaching her swiftly.

She was sitting on the bed in her pajamas, bundled up into a tight ball. Her knees were brought to her nose, which was buried in them deeply before he made his entrance. She feebly looked up, and Jay paled at the rigid wince her face was knotted into. 

"Jay," she moaned, her hair falling into her face. "I've got the worst pains in my gut."

Her voice was wobbly, almost on the verge of tears. Jay carefully sat beside her, and began to stroke her hair.

"Your stomachache? You still have it?"

Delia nodded, sighing painfully. "It's . . . I don't know. It hurts so much."

"The tea didn't help?" he asked fretfully. He hated to see her this way. It was obvious she was in agony, having gotten worse from what was just a simple stomachache when she'd come home.

Delia shook her head, dumping it into her knees again. A horrible jolt of pain shot through her abdomen, making her ground her teeth furiously. Jay watched as her hands gripped onto her pants to the point of turning white, and started to panic.

"Not tea, not medicine," she replied dreadfully. She lifted her head from her knees and nuzzled it into the crook of his neck, taking as much pleasure and comfort as she could from his warmth. "It's just not going away!"

"Hmm," Jay said, puzzled. "Are you sure it's a stomachache? Are you getting cramps, is it your monthly?"

Delia tensed, drawing in her breath. "N-no," she stammered. "It—it can't be . . ."

Her heart began to race as she thought of this. It couldn't possibly be anything to do with that, even though the pain was very familiar in that sense. Even though the pangs weren't located too precisely to be called a stomachache, she knew that it couldn't be anything other than that. It was unfeasible! Asserting herself with this conclusion, she tried to relax, but not unfortunately from the pain, which continued to throb within her.

"It must have been something I ate," she said decidedly. "It has to be." _And I hope it is . . ._

Jay considered it. "I suppose so," he replied. "Who knows? Maybe the milk in your shake was sour or something."

Delia shut her eyes as her abdomen eased from another spasm. It felt utterly wonderful, but she swallowed hard. She never knew of sour milk to create such severe discomfort. She was, on the other hand, feeling somewhat nauseous. That wasn't totally surprising; she had up to that point experienced some slight morning sickness, which Jay had thankfully not noticed. But what had been a stomachache—if it even was that to begin with—was clearly not so anymore. She shivered in fear.

"Maybe," she finally answered him. She unballed herself and massaged her stomach robustly, breathing loudly. Her hand slid further down, down to where the pain really was. A place she didn't want any pain.

Jay leaned over and kissed her cheek tenderly. "Get some rest, sweetheart. You'll feel better after you lay down and sleep."

She managed to give him a gracious smile. He brushed his finger down her cheek, then undid his side of the bed and got into the covers. She watched him quietly, still trying to execute some comfort to her aches. It wasn't working as fabulously as she wished, and she held her breath as another surge of raging pain ripped through her. 

__

Please God, please God, she pleaded in her mind. _Please stop this, it hurts so much! Please . . . make it _stop!

"Good night, Delia," Jay said. He reached over to snap his light off, and snuggled into his pillow. 

"Good night," she whispered. She extinguished her lamp and engulfed herself in her warm sheets. As soon as she was on her side the pain temporarily vanished, allowing her body and mind to allay. For a moment, she felt completely fine, and she relaxed in this blissful feeling. But as soon as her eyes grew heavy and brought her a comforting sensation of sleep, her abdomen exploded again, and she did everything she could from crying out. God, they were such familiar pains . . . horribly, horribly familiar. She'd felt these pains before, so very long ago. Bringing the recollection made her shudder with immense dread and mistrust, desperate to shut it out of her mind.

__

It can't be that, she willed. _It can't . . . God, you wouldn't let it . . ._

Ash was up before anyone the next morning. It was early, but his eyes refused to stay closed any longer. Looking down at his sleeping friends, he decided it was best not to wake them. Pikachu was up from his rustling, however, and didn't look like he was planning on falling back asleep. Feeling every bit of the long night, Ash rubbed his eyes and pulled himself out of bed. The thought of a nice hot shower suddenly sprang to his mind, and he couldn't contend it. It sounded all too wonderful.

He made his way downstairs on light feet, Pikachu right behind him. The more he thought of a shower, the more he desired it. He attended first to feeding Pikachu his breakfast, then rushed to the bathroom almost impatiently. The living room clock chimed nine A.M. as he closed the door behind himself, echoing throughout the quiet, lonely house. 

The water spurted out violently, and he let his hand slide underneath and enjoy its heat. He smiled gently, mixing with the already hearty feeling of well being he held. Although he wasn't necessarily thinking of the date's events, its amiable aftermath filled his blood with optimism and absolute content. Nothing was going to bring down his spirits today.

When the water was at a perfect temperature, Ash let the shower go and looked up to find the shampoo. He squinted as he took the bottle in his hand, noticing that there was just a pool of it on the bottom, certainly not enough to take care of his wild mess. Groaning, he opened the cabinet under the sink and searched for a new bottle. There were a slew of them among conditioners and hair sprays, and he randomly grabbed one from the back. Upon looking at it, his face wrinkled in curiosity.

"What the heck is this?" he murmured out loud. Turning it around, he noticed that it wasn't shampoo at all—it was a bottle of hair dye. Red hair dye to be exact. Ash scowled, wondering where it had come from. He never noticed it down there before, but it had obviously been used before, as half the bottle was already gone and a gooey film of the substance cemented the cap. 

"Whatever," he shrugged, going to return it back where he found it. However, he suddenly stopped, the event with Brock's hair coming swiftly back to his mind. He paused, then brought the bottle out again. Examining it more closely, the recollection of Misty's excitement over Brock's new look invaded him. A crafty grin crept slowly to his face. He placed the dye atop the sink, grabbed a new shampoo, and took his shower a lot more rapidly than he had previously intended. 

__

Man, if this doesn't impress her, nothing will! he thought as he read over the instructions on the bottle. All it called for was to apply then wash out, which Ash did happily. His body became jumpy with anticipation as he worked the dye into his hair, getting more and more thrilled as he pictured Misty's reaction in his mind. If she loved Brock's hair, she was bound to love this! She just had to! 

The bottle contained enough for him to do his whole head, and after a few minutes he then rinsed it out. With just a vigorous towel-dry, it was all done, and Ash stared at himself in the mirror with a beam and a new head of black hair, radiant with a not-so-faint hint of bright red. The additional color glistened in the light, and Ash's stomach leapt excitedly. It looked cooler than words could describe. 

"Approximately one week," he read from the bottle. One week he would have this outrageous hair, just enough for him to impress Misty but not outshine Brock. Brock's awesome hair could last forever if he wanted it to, but Ash wasn't looking for forever. He just wanted this one week, this one great opportunity to have Misty gush over him as well.

At that moment, voices became perceptible, and he quickly scrambled to finish dressing back into his pajamas. Taking a smiling glimpse at his reflection once again, Ash slipped out of the bathroom, and waited anxiously as Misty and Brock made their way down the stairs.

He wrung his hands stimulatedly as they rounded the bend, and as they did, another set of footsteps began to descend down the stairs. Ash didn't care who that was, though, as he focused on Misty, waiting in extreme suspense for her to lay her eyes on his hair and squeal as she had done with Brock.

Squealing was the last thing Misty did. She was smiling, but as she caught sight of him, the smile promptly vanished. Halting in place, and Brock nearly slamming into her from behind, she just gawked at him, her mouth agape. Ash's luminous face lingered momentarily as he awaited her zany reaction, but as the realization of her benumbed surprise registered in his brain, his eyes began to dart confusingly.

"Misty?" he asked, shrugging to get her to say something—anything. She didn't reply, just simply gaped; stared with outraged eyes that were slowly beginning to narrow in stunned stupefaction. Brock shared the same expression, his face knitting and a skeptical smirk pulling at his lips.

Ash's face begged for reaction. "W-well, guys? Don't you like it?"

Before his friends could even move their mouths to answer, his mother came up behind them, a humble smile adorning her sleepy face. Just like Misty, Ash witnessed the smile instantly fall from her face as her eyes fixed on him, widening in disbelief. This wasn't precisely like Misty's look, though. Something in her appalled look wasn't right, something that told him in an instant that he had made a terrible decision. His stomach sank like a rock.

"Ash! What . . . what did you do to your _hair!?_" Delia gasped.

"Huh?" His voice trembled as he fell into sudden disorientation. His glance flew from Misty to Brock in a second, noticing that they held the same horrified air about them.

__

Uh-oh, he gulped, his fists balling tightly as their stares brandished into him. This was not what he had expected, and panicking, he drew back slowly. His shimmering eyes flickered back to Delia, whose face was puffing up rather threateningly. His heart leapt up into his throat.__

"What did you do!?" she demanded again in intense shock, her voice rising a few octaves higher. 

Ash flinched. "Nothing, I—"

She hardly gave him a chance to answer before she stomped over to him, seizing his arm in a firm, hard grip that made him grit his teeth. Ash nearly tripped over his own feet as she hauled him towards the bathroom.

"I can't believe you!" she shouted. Ash paled nervously as she glowered fiercely at him, glancing at his hair with extreme petulance. Ash dragged his feet behind him reluctantly, but didn't dare pull against her hold. 

"I can't believe you did that to your hair! How could you do that? What were you thinking!?" she raged. 

Ash shrank back. "I don't know. I didn't think you'd be upset—"

"You thought I'd _like_ this!?" Delia spat, giving his arm a painful clutch. 

"I didn't think you wouldn't," Ash admitted, his voice floundering. _Oh man, what did I do?_ he thought miserably.

It was the pure truth, but Delia hardly accepted it. She just huffed angrily, proceeding to burst through the bathroom door. The strong, steamy mist from his recent shower surrounded Ash as he was forced into the room first, and he retreated from her as soon as she released him. She said nothing as she turned on the faucet violently, clogging the drain and allowing the sink to fill up. He watched silently and with deep, nervous breaths as his mom ran shaky hands through her hair, wondering how furious she was about this. In all honesty, he never thought this would create such trouble.

"You are just unbelievable!" mumbled Delia, shaking her head as she watched the sink fill up almost impatiently. She looked at his hair again disgustingly. "I can't believe you did this!"

"I'm sorry," he said dejectedly, feeling it best to apologize as soon as possible. 

"You're sorry!" she retorted hotly. "You're in big trouble, that's what you are, mister!"

Ash couldn't believe how hard and rigid her voice was, how _loud_. Neither could Misty or Brock, for that matter. Back out in the living room, the two were frozen solid, listening to the commotion just as tensely. Their muscles tightened again with that pang of extreme awkwardness. Slowly, their eyes locked, exchanging an indisputable _let's-get-out-of-here_ look that induced them to hastily dart up the stairs. In the scramble, they almost crashed into Jay halfway up.

"What's going on down there?" Jay asked them worriedly. Upon hearing the noise, he had quickly gotten out of bed to see what the distress was.

"Ash in trouble," was all Brock said as they hurried past him, leaving him in a curious muddle. Cocking an eye, he rushed down the stairs and towards the present source of the racket, more specifically, his wife's enraged voice.

"Get your head in the sink!" Delia ordered, pointing stringently at it.

Ash wavered timidly, watching as she went to grab the same bottle of shampoo that he'd opened minutes before. "Mom, I'll wash my hair if you want me to . . ."

"Ashton, get your head in the sink!" Delia repeated even more loudly. Before Ash had a chance to hesitate again, she grabbed hold of his head and pushed it down into the sink, and began to lather her hands with the shampoo.

Ash gulped and shut his eyes to block the splashing water. "Mom, please. I didn't think this would make you so mad!" he moaned desperately. He cringed as her foamed hands attacked his hair.

"Well, what did you think I'd do?" she fumed, working her hands coarsely against his scalp. "Say: 'Good morning Ash, love what you did with your hair, what would you like for _breakfast?!_'"

With that exclamation, she scrubbed even more viciously, making Ash yelp. This was definitely not the hypnotizing washing he received at the hair salon. 

"Ow, Mom! You're scrubbing too hard!" he whined.

She simply ignored him, keeping up at the same harsh pace. Ash squinted from the roughness, his gaze unwittingly directed towards the pool of lukewarm water his head was currently dunked in. He tried to squirm away, at least to relieve the horrible crick that formed in his neck from such a position. But his mom had quite a solid hold on him, and he found himself defenselessly detained. 

"This better come out," she said, her voice brewing with warning. "For your sake, this better come out!"

"Mom, calm down! Please—_ow!_ Come on!" Ash pleaded. It was hopeless—no matter how hard she scoured his head, there was no way hair dye that was supposed to last a week would come out with one washing. His heart pounded.

Delia discovered pretty quickly that the dye was not coming out. To Ash's relief, she lifted herself away from him, but he knew it wasn't over. Her incensed glare never left him as he pulled his head slowly from the sink, sopping wet, still very much red.

"What made you think you could do something like that?" she said. "Huh?"

"I don't know," Ash replied, though he knew very well. Realizing instantly that lying wasn't only going to get him in worse trouble, he quickly sputtered out, "I—I thought it looked cool! I thought you wouldn't have a problem!"

"Well, look at me, Ash!" she cried. Her unyielding voice made his stomach somersault every time. "Does it look like I don't have a problem? Does it!?"

"No," he answered at once. 

"Hey, come on, what's all the yelling about?" 

Delia and Ash turned as Jay appeared cautiously in the doorway. Ash flinched, not knowing how he was going to react. Following in the same pattern, Jay's face not surprisingly lit up in shock.

"Oh my God!" he uttered, pointing. "You have red hair!"

"Can you believe it!?" Delia said disgracefully. "Look what he did to himself!"

Jay looked his son over for a moment, and shrugged. "I dunno. Looks kinda neat."

Ash's face brightened in prospect for a second, but Delia was hardly humored. "Don't you dare say that, Jay! It's not neat!" He backed away as she turned angrily back to Ash. "I never gave you permission for this! How could you go and dye your hair without asking me first?"

"You let Brock dye his hair," Ash said inaudibly, cowering. Jay, in the meantime, stood off to the side and silently observed, making Ash all the more apprehensive.

"Because Brock asked me if he could do it!" Delia snapped. "He asked my permission if he could do that; you _didn't!_ And he got his hair dyed a normal color, not this! Where did you even _get_ that color, huh? Where!?" 

Ash trembled from her berating, not responding instantly.

"WHERE!?" she barked again.

"I found it under the sink," Ash answered hastily, his tone tottering with imminent tears. "Under the sink. There was a bottle of it there—half empty."

"Under the sink?" Delia wondered. For a moment, her anger drowned in confusion as she tried to think of how a bottle of dye found its place in the cabinet—

She remembered. Her eyes widened upon the revelation, and this time it was Ash's turn to be befuddled. He simply stared as she was rendered speechless, unable to believe that it was her dye—the same she used last year to put red streaks in her hair for a Halloween party and the holiday itself—that was the culprit. Delia shifted her glare back to him again.

"That was my hair dye," she growled, and Ash was taken aback.

"Yours?"

"It doesn't matter whether it was mine or not!" she scolded. "You had absolutely no right to go and dye your hair without asking me first! Do you hear me?"

"Yes," Ash nodded. His eyes were now glimmering with moisture; he couldn't take any more chastisement. "I'm sorry, I should've asked. I know."

"Yeah, you should've!" Delia said sternly. "And I would've said no, too! What Brock did to his hair was tasteful, but what you did is completely unacceptable! I—I don't want anyone to even _see_ you like this, you . . . that's it, you're not leaving this house till all that's out of your hair."

Ash froze, his face falling in setback at her emphatic tone. "But—but that's not for a week! The hair dye doesn't come out for a week!"

His mother gave him a haughty look. "Oh well. Looks like you're stuck here for a week, then."

The tears were threatening to slip, but Ash swallowed them back. He looked hopefully at his dad for a second, but Jay just shook his head, letting him know he agreed with Delia. 

"But—but you don't understand!" he argued, panic taking hold of him as one and only one thing effortlessly came to his mind. It wasn't that he was entirely shocked over being punished, but this he couldn't accept. As soon as the math was done in his head and he realized that Friday fell among the days of his confined week to come, he shuddered. "Friday, me and Mis—"

"Friday, nothing!" Delia stamped her foot. "Until every strand of red is out of that hair, you're not going anywhere! Understand me, young man?"

Ash opened his mouth once more to object, but quickly shut it. "Yeah," he mumbled begrudgingly. 

His eyes lowered, he shuffled quickly out of the bathroom, Delia glaring at him harrowingly. She didn't have any time to stew over what he had done, however, as a sudden slash of pain attacked her midsection, taking her completely off guard. Her face twisting in torment, she doubled over and moaned, clutching onto the sink for support.

"Delia! Oh my God!" Jay exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Are you okay!? What's the matter?"

She took her tightening fists away from the sink and grasped his shirt, nearly ripping it. She didn't respond at first, just concentrated on the terrible cramp, that of which wasn't fading all too swiftly. Breathing deeply, tears stung her eyes. 

__

Where did this come from again? she thought, horrified.

"Nothing," she choked out, placing a hand on her stomach. She shook her head. "Nothing, he—he just upset me, that's all."

Jay's jaw dropped in alarm. "Well, don't let him upset you like that!" he admonished. He assisted her over to the toilet, which she sat down upon. "That's ridiculous!"

"I know, I know," Delia said, taking deep breaths. Jay watched her with intense concern, tenderly brushing the hair out of her eyes. She didn't look into his face; she kept her gaze down, trying presently to fight down the strong feeling of nausea that was stinging her throat. "I—I just don't need this in the morning."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jay replied soothingly, squatting down to her level. "Look, he just dyed his hair. It'll be out in a week. He could have done something much worse—he could've gotten a tattoo or something. Okay? Just please, Del, calm down. It's nothing to get sick over, baby."

Delia allowed herself to focus only on Jay's soft fingers caressing her brow, which was suddenly sticky with perspiration. Their eyes locked, his glimmering in worry and hers with subsiding pain and fear. His words held true, but little did he know their son's hair was the thing bringing her the least concern. She nodded, and he hugged her, pulling her shaky body close to his chest. She buried her face into his sweet-smelling hair and grasped her arms around him, her heart not ceasing to race frightfully. The pain had not returned, but she could still feel that something within her was not right. After awaking that morning pain-free, she thought she was out of danger, out of the dread that had wracked her so miserably the night before. It was obviously not so anymore.

__

What's happening to me? she thought traumatically. 

Ash had no idea what he was going to do. For a moment, he paused before the stairs and stared up them, his legs refusing to move. How was he going to break this to Misty? How could even show his face before her? The excitement over his hair had since deteriorated, obviously—the look she had given him before his mom had started her rant confirmed she wasn't exhilarated. And now because of it, their second date was finished, their plans altogether shattered with his brainless idiocy. 

__

She's going to rip me apart, he concluded, trembling. Grounded _and _beaten up by Misty on the same day . . . so much for his high spirits.

Building his courage, he slowly ascended the stairs. He tried desperately to formulate what he would say to her in his mind, but his thoughts were just a crazy, frantic clutter. His knees hadn't buckled this much since the first time he'd walked out onto the infield of Indigo Plateau. At this point, though, he had to admit that this was a whole lot scarier.

As his hand went to grab the knob, his bedroom door suddenly swung open, and Ash jumped back in surprise. There stood Brock, who looked just as shocked to see Ash before him. Instantly, their eyes met awkwardly, and neither moved a muscle for a good few seconds. In that moment, Ash felt miserable looking into Brock's apathetic face. Hanging his head, he prepared to apologize, but Brock got in the first word.

"Hey, listen," he whispered. His voice almost held a hint of compassion. "She isn't as thrilled with the hair as you would've liked her to be."

"Oh?" Ash mumbled.

Brock patted his shoulder. "Should've waited and gotten iced tips, too, instead."

With that, he slipped by him and made his way down the stairs, leaving Ash alone and vulnerable to Misty's wrath. He sort of hoped that Brock would have stayed, but now as he considered the hardship that was to come, he was actually glad he hadn't stuck around for the impending slaughter.

His glossy eyes fixed on his door before him, just slightly ajar. Behind that door lay a chance encounter, the outcome of which unforeseen to his dismay. He didn't care whether she would yell and scream, or let fly at him even—at this point, it didn't matter to him. Feeling horribly regretful, he just hoped and prayed that he wouldn't break her heart as much as he dreaded. He deserved to be forbidden from the outing . . . but not her. 

__

Oh man, Ash gulped. _How am I going to survive this?_

Taking a deep breath, he grasped the knob again and let himself into the room.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

Awww, Kimmie kad! You do remember the overly-friendly, happy, and giddy candy-girl was named after you too, right? ^____^ And just for the record, I do believe the ticket-taker guy has a crush on a certain snack bar girl at the Pallet Town Movie Theater . . . *whistles innocently*

I just wanted to thank everyone who made me so happy last weekend with all your wonderful reviews when I was feeling overwhelmed. Thank you to all who read, as well. You always lift my spirits when I'm feeling down, and I couldn't be more grateful. ^___^

Stay tuned to see what various ways Misty can employ to mangle our dear, red-headed Ashy Boy . . . or will I come to save him just in the nick of time? ~_^ Hehe! See ya next week! Have a good one!


	8. Redemption

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 8

Redemption

His heart pounding steadily in his chest, Ash pushed open the door to his room and entered cautiously. Misty was sitting on her rollaway bed Indian-style, Togepi settled in her lap and jumping around happily. She looked pleasantly engaged with her jovial Pokémon, but that was before her head lifted and her gaze sealed on him. Ash felt his heart sink as she slumped instantly, eyeing his mahogany hair skeptically. 

"Oh my God," she uttered inaudibly. "What were you thinking!?"

Ash looked down shamefully. "I don't know."

Misty carefully placed Togepi aside. "Geez, Ash, I could've told you your mom was going to flip out over that! I mean, come _on_!"

"Misty," Ash said calmly, "I seriously didn't think she'd get that mad."

"Well, duh!" Misty groaned. "Look, I can see if you like Brock's hair and all, and you wanted to do it yourself, but you couldn't just _ask _her? You couldn't simply ask her to take you out to get the same thing done? Ash, please—don't tell me I know your mom better than you do! I would've never done that in a million years!"

Ash cringed as her tone became increasingly irritated. At first, she hadn't sounded so upset. Her face was now growing slightly redder as she voiced her annoyance and proclaimed his foolishness.

__

I'm dead meat, Ash resolved helplessly. _She is totally going to kill me_. He wanted none other than to spin around, dart back downstairs, and not even break the news to her, but he knew it was inescapable. She was going to have to find out sooner or later, and now, he realized, had to be that time. Putting it off was only going to make it worse—and this was bad _enough_.

"I know," he conceded. "It was stupid of me. I—I saw the dye in the cabinet and . . . I made a dumb mistake. I know."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that was a dumb mistake! God, your mom must be fuming right now." That, she knew, was a pointless thing to say, but she was downright curious of what came out of it. She noticed Ash's wet head and pined for an explanation. 

Ash bit his lip. "Y-yeah, she's pretty mad."

"Well, you're an idiot!" He flinched as this came out as a shout. "What did she say? She's making you wash it out today, right?"

Ash's face twitched nervously. "Uh . . . well, she wanted me to, yeah, but . . ."

"But what?"

Ash paused for a second. "It's not gonna come out for a week," he said hesitantly. Misty's eyes went wide. "The dye lasts a week."

"_That_ lasts for a _week!?_" she spat, her fiery tone sending him back a few feet.

"Um, kinda," he murmured, recoiling sheepishly.

Her face writhed in disgust. "_Oh my God!_ You mean to tell me I have to look at you with that red hair for a week!?"

__

You're gonna have to deal with a lot more than just that for a week, he thought, his head beginning to spin. His life was definitely over—there was no question about it now. He nodded haggardly.

Misty shuddered as another realization hit her. "Are you saying that you're gonna take me out to dinner with _that_ hair!?"

Ash paled instantly. Misty was giving him a look of pure panic, begging him to give her the answer she craved, but to his foreboding, he knew he couldn't provide that. Each moment that passed in this awkward setting made his repentance strengthen, his compassion soaring for her and how hurt she would be from the crushing announcement in queue. 

"Well . . . thing is," he said, wringing his hands, "I'm sorta not." He inhaled fearfully as he awaited her reaction.

Misty's face promptly became ashen. "What?" she asked, pronouncing each syllable clearly and demandingly. "What does that mean?"

Ash's body stiffened. He was so terrified he even said a quick prayer in his mind, imploring for bravery to utter the next statement. "It—it means that . . . I'm, uh . . . in a lot of trouble for this, and . . . I—I'm kinda not allowed out until the dye is gone."

Misty immediately bolted off her bed, her eyes exploding with malice. "WHAT!?"

His hands instinctively flew out defensively. "Misty, wait—"

"We—we can't go on our date?" she blurted incredulously. "We can't go!?" Before he had a chance to console her and explain, her voice fired off, wild with appalled disbelief.

"You idiot, you _imbecile!_ You are so _dumb!_ What were you thinking!?" she cried. She hammered her foot against the floor over and over, like a pouting child engrossed in a tantrum. Togepi squeaked with alarm over the sudden uproar, and retreated beneath Misty's covers.

"Misty, I'm sorry! Really, I am! Please listen—"

"No you're not!" Misty screamed. Any bit of disappointment in her tone escalated to intense fury. "You ruined our second date! I can't believe you!"

"No I didn't!" Ash responded, pleading for her to hear him out. "You don't understand, why would I do that?"

"Because you're an idiot!" Misty bluntly repeated. "What were you thinking!? Didn't it even occur to you that what you were doing would piss your mom off?"

"Well, not really," Ash admitted, his voice wobbly. Her brief, angry delay gave him a chance to speak more, and he took advantage of it. "Look, I know it was stupid, but I'll do anything I can to fix it! I swear! Mom said that I couldn't go out until all the red is gone! If—if I have to wash my hair ten times a day, I'll do it! I swear, I'll fix this, I'll get our date back!"

Misty's nostrils flared, her look hardening even more. "No you won't! Face it, Ash, we're screwed! There's no way that stuff is going to come out, and there's especially no way your mom's gonna let you go through that much shampoo!" She threw her hands down detestably. "Ugh, I can't believe you! I can't believe you lost us our second date because you could be so brainless!"

Ash glanced away, not having the guts to look her in the eye. Every word from her mouth, as pitifully true as they were, stung. But the silence that fell over the room, untimely and heavy, was even worse. Each second passed by with a single, pounding beat of his heart, guilt-ridden and sullen. He had no idea what she would say next, what hurtful but deserving insult she would smack on him and make the situation even more painful. 

"Your mom was right about what she said," Misty suddenly muttered. 

Ash's eyes lifted instantly. "_What?_" he gasped, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"What she said the other night," she explained hotly. Her lip arched into nasty snarl. "I overheard it. About how she was sick of you acting so immature all the time! And you know what, she was absolutely right! You _are_ immature, and this is a prime example!"

Ash's mouth trembled as he tried to find what to say. How had this come into play all of a sudden? "B-b-but I'm not immature! I didn't mean to cause trouble!"

"Oh, yeah, Ash," she sneered sardonically. "Copying Brock and dying your hair behind your mom's back _isn't _immature?"

He swallowed the huge lump in his throat. What a point she had, but he wasn't ready to admit that he had willingly brought this upon himself. "Misty, it's not like that. You don't understand."

"No, Ash!" she argued, pointing a finger at him viciously. "_You_ don't understand! She told you that if you didn't stop acting immature, she'd think differently about our relationship!" 

Ash faltered. "Yeah, but—"

"To think that you would go and do something that would so obviously make your mom mad, it's just—it's just . . . I don't get you, I don't know went on in your brain, I—" 

He slumped remorsefully as her lip quivered. She caught her breath and looked him directly in the eye, her voice lowering to barely a whisper. "You just don't care, do you?"

He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the remark she'd just uttered. "What do you mean I don't care?" he asked softy, not comprehending but securing a restless sense of what she was articulating.

Misty approached him slowly. "You don't care about us!" she accused, her voice drenched with the hurt she was feeling. "You don't care, because if you did, you'd remember that, and you wouldn't go and do something dumb like this!"

Her voice grew louder, making Ash panic considerably. Her words were cold and biting, making him tremor with anxiety. He couldn't believe how false her allegation was, how much it wracked him with the vehement impulse to prove her wrong. She had no idea what he tried to do that morning to please her, whether or not its result was disastrous. 

"But Misty . . . I—I do care!" he sputtered. 

"No you don't!" she shook her head. Her eyes welled in tears. "You don't care at all about whether or not we can be together if you can just go and deliberately do something stupid that would make your mom upset, and—and think we're not old enough or whatever to do this! Oh God, I wouldn't be surprised if she _never_ lets us go out again! And it's all your fault!"

Her words were an arrow in his chest. "Misty, _please_!" he begged desperately. "You know I wouldn't do anything on purpose to ruin our relationship, o-or our date! Why would I want that? You think I meant to cause this trouble, that I wanted to be punished!? Or make my mom think that I'm not mature enough to go out on dates with you? Why would I want that, why!?"

"I don't know!" she frowned dejectedly. "I don't _know_ why you would do this, but you did! You're just an immature copycat who doesn't give a second thought to what you're doing! You just do whatever the hell you please and don't care about the consequences!"

"Misty, you know I don't do that!" Ash whined, throwing his fists down. "And I'm not a copycat!"

Misty's eyes darted outrageously. "Yeah, right, Ash! You just _happened_ to be planning on dying your hair the morning after Brock got his iced tips. _Sure_." 

Ash breathed heavily. "No, it's not that!" he objected firmly. "You don't know why I did it!"

"Then why, Ash!? Please, enlighten me!"

"Because I . . ." He trailed off, drawing himself in.

"Because why?" she demanded.

"Because . . . of you."

Despite the fact that he had just revealed his reason, Misty still didn't understand. "Oh, _thanks a lot_, Ash!" she retorted instead. "So I'm the reason behind all of this? Great, now your mom's probably upset with me, too!"

"No, you're misunderstanding!" Ash pouted again. "That's not what I mean!"

Misty held up her hand, arresting his words in a flash. She turned her back to him as she spoke. "Please, Ash, just stop, okay? You're an idiot, and you don't care, and I . . . ugh, I can't be bothered."

He could have been mad at her for not listening to him, for not believing him and his overly earnest assurances. He could have given up as apparently she was, turned away and letting her stew in her bitterness to her heart's desire. He could have even gone downstairs and begged on his hands and knees to be pardoned this one time, hopeful to bring her back good news and regain her trust. 

But none of those choices were being considered in Ash's head. He was too affected by her words, by her irked tone. Nothing she had ever said had moved him like this before. His heart was heavy, burdensome with her cold apathy. Him . . . not care? How could she say such a thing? How could she claim that he had purposely put their date in jeopardy, or their entire relationship for that matter? He had dyed his hair for none other than to impress her, to grab her undivided and ardent attention. Granted, he now knew his decision was a considerably poor one, but he didn't mean for the situation to unfold the way it did. 

__

But how am I gonna convince her of that? he wondered. _How can I tell her how much I really do care—that I did this because I wanted her to notice me—that I wanted her to tell me I looked good—that I wanted to show her how much I . . ._

"Misty," he whispered, coming up beside her. She refused to turn around for a second, but he tenderly placed a hand on her arm, finally encouraging her to face him. Her eyes rose to scrutinize his hair, but she tore them away immediately, almost as if it was painful to look at it.

"Listen to me," he said. His voice staggered with emotion. "You don't know how much I really do care."

She looked into his face, making no other movement than her steady, condemning blinking. "No," was all she said.

"Misty." He started again, but licked his lips as he faltered. His heart beat vigorously, pressed him on, urged him to say what he needed. "I know this is upsetting you, and I know how much I let you down, but . . . you gotta believe me. I would never, _ever_ do anything to ruin what we're doing. How could I? I . . . I love what we're doing. More than anything."

To his amazement, she looked at him again, her stern eyes softening to one of interested concern. He took a deep breath, and continued shakily.

"You have no idea what that date did to me last night, how nervous I was but how much I really enjoyed it. I . . . I was so happy when we came home, when it was over, because it had gone so perfectly. I thought we were gonna talk about it like crazy, never stop. I thought . . . well, that we wouldn't be able to take our eyes off each other. But . . . when Brock came down, and you . . . when you started to gush all over him, and how great he looked, I just . . . I guess I . . ."

Ash didn't need to say anymore, and he knew it. The way Misty's face lifted in astonishment was enough to confirm that he'd finally gotten to her. He looked down and away, feeling the salty tears begin to sting. 

"Ash, I . . ." For the first time, a smile appeared. "I didn't know that . . . that I really upset you like that."

"Well, not upset me . . ." he said gently. "It's just . . . I dunno, after our date, I thought . . . that, well . . ." He sighed. "I was going to be the one you gushed over."

Her head tilted compassionately, a warm expression smoothing the wrinkles of distress that had contorted her moments before. "Ash, are you telling me that . . . you were _jealous_?"

Ash winced at the mention of the word, but boldly nodded. 

"You were jealous that I gave Brock so much attention?" Her voice was now squeaky, overwhelmed with the charm of his confession. Knowing Ash, that was a tough thing for him to do, and instantly, her heart melted. 

Ash nodded again. "That's why . . . when I saw that hair dye, I . . . I thought about you, and I guess . . . I wanted you to give me that attention, too." She grinned, but he still retained his solemn look. "Guess I screwed up instead."

Her grin faded, but only to a coquettish smile. "Ash," she groaned gently. "Just because I gave Brock all that attention over his hair didn't mean I forgot about our date and everything. Brock—he's my friend, too. What was I supposed to do? Just ignore him? Come on, I couldn't do that; he was so excited about it, and it really _was _cool."

"I know," Ash agreed, smiling wanly. "I know. I didn't mean for you to ignore him, or whatever. It was dumb to get upset over it; it really was nothing."

"Well, obviously it _was _something if it led you to do this," Misty pointed out. With a small smirk, she reached to yank tenderly at his damp hair, shaking her head. Bringing it to mind again, he hung his head sulkily, inducing her to sigh compassionately. 

"You really did that to get my attention?" she asked. "You wanted me to gush over you, too?"

He felt a bit foolish as his aspiration came out into the clear, but he had to nod. 

"I dunno, it was just that . . . after the date, I thought we'd be talking about it, that it'd be the only thing on our minds," he explained. "It was such a special night, and I was just dying to let you know that; how much it really, _really _. . . did something to me." 

She hung on his every word, almost hypnotically. She couldn't help but feel moved as tears pooled in his eyes. His voice started to crack as he continued, sobs being fought back with every last bit of strength he had left to control his emotions. 

"I know this sounds stupid, but . . . even though I know I like hanging out with you, and having fun with you, I didn't realize how much more great it became last night on that date." 

Finally, the sob found its way out, and Ash came staggeringly close to breaking down. As he explained his view, the guilt over what he had done started to torture him miserably. He felt so horribly bad, stirring his heart to the point that he couldn't even look into her face. He wished he could start the day over; wished he had never found that dye; wished he could have just rethought what he was doing so that right now he could have been having fun with her rather than apologizing. 

"Th-that's why I feel so awful for doing this," he sniffled. "Misty, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean to ruin our next date, I swear I didn't! I want to go on it just as badly as you do! And . . . a-a-and . . ." He began to cry softly. "I'm just so sorry I did this!"

"Oh, Ash," Misty whispered whole-heartedly, watching his hands fly to his eyes to shield his tears. She honestly couldn't believe how affected he was by the whole ordeal. And she certainly had no idea that her actions towards Brock had put such a damper on his happiness. A surge of intense compassion shot through her body, a feeling that made her want to hug him more strongly than she ever had. As much as she was upset over what he had done, it was incomparable to the hurt he was experiencing because of it.

"It's okay," she condoled. 

"No, it's not okay!" he blubbered. "I'm such an idiot!"

"You're not an idiot. I am," she said, approaching him carefully. He looked up, slightly surprised. "I'm an idiot for not realizing that giving Brock all that attention after our date was wrong."

Ash reached up to wipe the tears off his face. "Misty, you're not wrong. I could have prevented this, and I didn't! _I'm_ the idiot! It was a dumb thing for me to do and get upset over!" 

"No it wasn't," she replied. "I should have been gushing over what _you _did last night. That whole evening, Ash . . . it was so wonderful. It was, and you deserved more than just me telling you that."

Ash gaped with wet eyes as she gave him the coyest grin she could produce. He didn't know what she meant by the expression, and was nervously intrigued. 

Misty wasn't sure of what she was doing or even thinking, but seeing his glassy eyes and distraught face made her suddenly fall for him all over again. Of course, she couldn't count the number of times that that had happened since she met him, but this time was different. She could feel it in her heart, and in that moment, her disappointment disappeared, replaced by the drive to do something she never imagined her doing so soon.

"Ash," she said, taking a deep breath. "I know it's a little late, but . . . would it be possible if . . . I could make it up to you some other way?"

Ash's mind became hazy. There was something in her reserved voice that made his limbs flimsy. "Wh-what way?" he stammered silently. 

Her face flushed amidst the beseeching look she was giving him. He was frozen, feeling his face heat up awkwardly as well. The hesitant discovery of what was occurring blossomed in his consciousness, but as much as it was frightening him, he couldn't battle it. 

"Well . . ." Misty said, her tone tight with apprehension. She giggled mindlessly. "I don't know . . . would it be all right if I . . . you know, made it up to you with a . . . kiss?"

Ash's heart skipped a beat. Was she actually serious? Did she really mean that? This had to be a dream, he decided, just one wacky dream that was becoming even more so. The way she was staring at him with humble, persuading eyes _had_ to be an illusion. 

"What?" he choked out, immediately panicking.

Misty looked down at her feet modestly. "Well . . . I can't gush over your hair, because honestly, I really don't like it." She shrugged. "Guess this is the second best thing I can do."

Tensing, Ash backed away from her inadvertently, catching one of his desk chair legs and nearly stumbling backwards onto the floor. Misty slightly cringed as this almost happened, but regained her kittenish smile as he found his feet and returned to giving her an incredulous stare.

"R-really?" he squeaked, his voice cracking. "Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah. Sure I am," she said gently. 

"But aren't you mad at me?" he asked, gulping and grappling onto the chair for support. 

She shook her head. "No, I'm not mad—well, maybe I am a little. I'm upset over what you did, yeah, but . . . I didn't know it was this serious to you. It just wasn't good on my bad temper when you first told me."

"Yeah," Ash responded, amazingly emitting a chuckle. There was nothing funny about this situation, though—this was something major, a big ordeal. Something significant was unfolding, hitting him like a ton of bricks. He couldn't believe this was really occurring. Naturally, with the way he and Misty had been growing closer lately, he assumed it would come sooner or later—but he was hoping on the later. All in one moment, questions flew to his mind: Was he ready? Could he do this, _survive _this? Should he run? Was there any way he could say no without hurting her feelings?

__

No, I can't say no, he told himself rigidly. He was going to have to do this, but shockingly, he realized that it wasn't just for Misty's sake that he came upon this conclusion. A little part of him stormed with excitement over it. Ash quickly recalled his dad's advice: if he really wanted to kiss Misty, he would know when. 

__

But is this the time? He looked away, the intimidated part of him still in command. Misty watched him pace around on ponderous feet, covering her mouth and hiding the silly little grin she had as a result of his nervousness. It was cute, really, but she knew how impulsive this was, and how much he was probably going crazy on the inside because of it. 

"Ash, look," she said, "if . . . if you don't want to, I understand." She half-shrugged amiably. "I mean, I know this is sudden . . . It was just a suggestion, that's all. It's okay."

"No!"

She jumped back slightly as he spun around and shouted this. Suddenly, his face looked desperate, but breaking through was a small smile.

"What?"

"No, it—it's okay," Ash assured.

Misty leaned forward questioningly. "What's okay?" she asked, her smile returning as well. "Kissing?"

Ash's teeth ground as the word pierced his ears again, almost as if it was a curse. But it was hardly disturbed him in that manner; he just couldn't believe she was saying this and being serious at the same time. Or that he was on the verge of accepting the suggestion, either. Did he really know what he was doing?

"Well . . . I don't know," he replied with hesitance, his look denoting the same. "I mean, you . . . you really want to? You're . . . ready for it?"

Misty blushed lightly. "Uh, well," she said, biting her lip embarrassingly. "I've actually been ready for it for a while."

"You have?" Ash asked, his eyes raising.

"Sure I have," Misty replied furtively.

"I—" He cut himself off abruptly as he came to embrace this stunning disclosure. "W-well, why haven't you told me?"

"What? About being ready to kiss?" He nodded, and she nearly burst out into laughter. He squinted confusingly, and she clarified with a proud smile, "Ash, if I would've told you when I was ready to kiss, it probably would've been, ohhhh . . . a year prior to this date?"

Her laughter finally came out as his eyeballs practically bugged out of their sockets. "Are you kidding me?" he uttered in astonishment.

She nodded again, this time mischievously. 

"Well . . . why didn't you tell me that, either!?"

"What!?" she gasped, her zany grin broadening from the preposterousness of his statement. "Yeah, right! Like I was going to tell you then!"

Ash's mouth hung open, curved into a disbelieving smile. He, at this point, was at a loss for words. He could accept the fact that she'd had a crush on him these years, but _kiss_? She was willing to kiss him through all of it? The thought of it made his knees shake with excitement—she had to be kidding.

But whether she was joking about it or not, she certainly was in no bantering mood right now. If she was, she would have never brought it out into the open . . . unless this was some sick joke, its sole purpose to freak him out in order to get him back for the morning's circumstance. 

"So?" she asked as the silence lingered for long enough. "Whaddah ya say?" 

He knew there was no way she could be kidding. It was impossible; nobody could possibly pull off such a feat. She couldn't in all likelihood toy around with such a sensitive and profound subject as this.

"Say?" Ash echoed, his voice losing all its vitality. His brow wrinkled in uncertainty. "I—I don't know . . ."

"Ash, hey," she replied softly. "Look, I said it's okay. We don't have to. I know you probably don't want to—"

"What makes you think that?"

She stared at him momentarily, bewildered. "Oh, I don't know. You . . . seem kinda hesitant."

"Well . . . that doesn't mean I don't . . . want to."

Her face brightened. "Really?"

__

Oh God! Ash thought frantically. _What am I doing? Am I saying _yes_ to this!?_

"I—I guess so."

A look of pure rapture took over her face, a dash of surprise mixed along with it. Ash found himself once again backing away her, his innards tightening intensely. What would happen in the next few minutes he had no clue of, and it frightened him just as much as it sent waves of dizzy curiosity through his veins. 

"Wow. Okay," she breathed quietly. 

"It's just—" He broke the mood again with his trembling voice. She gazed at him worriedly as he shrugged despairingly. "I . . . I don't know what to do."

Misty smiled understandably. "Well, neither do I. But . . . I'm sure we can figure it out. It can't be _that _difficult."

Ash nodded, and for the next few seconds, neither of them moved. They just stood where they were and looked at each other, almost as though they were waiting for the other to make the first move. Misty watched as Ash's fists balled in and out, his eyes shimmering. His reddish hair stood out considerably, but at that point, she didn't care if it was a vibrant hot pink. The excitement over what was to happen completely took hold of her, both physically and mentally, and she couldn't image a situation any more desirable.

She snickered. "Well, come on," she said, motioning him over to one of the beds. "Sit."

Ash advanced forward laboriously, but she suddenly halted him.

"Wait! Go close the door."

"Huh?" Ash said, but rapidly grasped his bearings and shut the door, locking it instinctively. 

"Just so that Brock doesn't decide to come strolling in," Misty giggled, rolling her eyes. Ash pictured the sight and sweatdropped humorously.

"You make this out to be some sort of secret," he remarked.

"Well, no, not really," she replied. "But, come on, Ash, do you really feel like having your whole family walk in? Duh!"

__

Oh man, Ash thought. Imagining Brock catching them kissing was one thing, but the thought of having either one of his parents—especially with him being presently in the doghouse—finding them was enough to make his stomach lurch sickeningly.

"Guess you're right," he said. She gestured giddily for him to come over again, and he did—slowly. He sat discreetly beside her on the bed, and she grinned widely, taking his hands in her own.

"Oh, Ash! Your hands are like ice!" she observed, immediately letting go of them.

Ash rubbed them together robustly. "I would think so, considering I'm freezing. My hair is still wet, you know." And yet, despite the fact that having a wet head and a slightly damp pajama top in air-conditioning wasn't entirely pleasant, he still managed to be breaking out into a sweat.

"So," she whispered. 

"Yeah," he said, looking away. "I . . . I really don't know how to do this . . ."

"I'll make it easier for you," said Misty. "I'll kiss you, okay? Would that make it better?"

"Um . . . maybe," he said. "I'm not sure."

"All you have to do is kiss back," she advised him, making another attempt to hold his hands. They were still dead cold, but she didn't mind. "Okay?"

"All right," he answered weakly, clutching her hands back nervously. "I think."

Misty smiled warmly, and Ash attempted to the same. They sat motionlessly, their eyes immovably locked. For a few moments, they did this and only this, millions of thoughts running through their minds simultaneously. Misty knew she had to make the advance since she volunteered, but it wasn't as easy as she thought it would be. Having Ash's face even this close to hers impelled chills to ignite through her body.

She decided to swallow as a cue, and slowly she leaned in, shutting her eyes and pursing her lips. Ash tensed, his eyes refusing to close as he watched her mouth come dangerously close to his. Incidentally, he leaned back and away from her as she drew closer, like the opposing poles of a magnet meeting together. He instantly halted himself of this, not only because he found it very impolite to be unwittingly complicating what she was trying so hard to accomplish, but because he found that their joined hands were preventing him from going any further anyway. He was trapped—trapped and frenzied.

His disorientation told him he was screwing up again. Well, not that this was a huge surprise. Time was short, and he realized there was no way he could pucker his lips in time, or tilt his head to meet hers perfectly in time, or even sit in place confidently as they kissed. There was no way he was going to do _anything_ right. 

Panicking, he clasped his eyes shut, almost in a wince, as it was the only thing up to this point that he could succeed in doing. But it didn't make much a difference. Misty suddenly tore away before making contact, leaving a very shocked Ash to gape as she exploded into fidgety laughter, a hand flying up to cover her crimson face.

"What's the matter?" he asked distressfully.

"Nothing, nothing," she gibbered, shaking her head. She looked at him gingerly. "I . . . I just wasn't ready. I wasn't ready. Hold on."

Ash smiled compassionately, but inside he was releasing a huge, comforting sigh of relief. _Phew! Thank God, that was close . . . _"Take your time," he told her. _Seriously!_ "You know I'm not going anywhere fast." 

She giggled again, her teeth biting down hard on her bottom lip. She was breathing choppily, trying to prepare. She had been ready, but as soon as her lips approached his, everything had brusquely shattered. At once, her nerves snapped, her courage floundered. She had completely fallen apart. It wasn't something she wanted in this momentous moment in her life. Immediately, she knew she was making a fool of herself, and desperately tried to ready.

"Hold on, hold on," she panted, holding up a finger. "Just give me a second."

"Sure. As long as you want, Misty," he replied kindly. _Gives me all the more time to start _breathing _again._

She paused, then looked excitedly at him. "I think I'm ready now," she announced. "This is just so weird; I'm sorry."

"I know," Ash agreed. "Don't worry, you're not alone."

Grinning, Misty shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "I can do this," she said. "I can. This time I promise." She put on a serious face, arching her shoulders.

__

Here we go again . . . With more preparation time, Ash went over quickly the things he needed to do. His nervousness didn't abate, but as Misty closed her eyes softly again and leaned in, he promptly did the same and braced himself. He puckered his lips, trying with all his might not to clench them, to make them as tender as possible. His face muscles tingled as he felt her hot breath on him. For a moment, he predicted (and very slightly wished) she was going to pull away again, but that was proven tremendously wrong as her warm lips pressed into his.

The strangeness of the situation overpowering the passion of it, they pulled away from each other after an incredibly brief two seconds. Those two seconds, however, were enough to strike a brilliant streak of red across their noses, and their shaky eyes met together awkwardly. Despite it all, small, dazed smiles etched their mouths, incredulous but overwhelmed with thrill.

"Oh my gosh," Misty whispered.

"You said it," Ash replied mystically. "That was . . ."

"Cool?" she filled him in, her voice hopeful.

Ash smiled skittishly. "Yeah . . . it was. But—really weird, too."

"That, too," Misty laughed, almost in relief. "Weird and cool."

Ash could assign those two words to the engagement perfectly, along with many others: interesting, exciting, scary, exhilarating, spine tingling, unbelievable . . . and pleasing. He didn't know why that one was somewhat stronger than the other feelings. It brought so many new sensations to his being, but above all, Ash came to the awareness that the kiss wasn't all that horrible. It was anything but that.

It was enough to give him a surge of reassurance, of daring. He couldn't believe the next thing he said; but he also couldn't contend his curiosity as to whether or not the pleasure was just a fluke, a product of his delirious mind. "Do you wanna try it again?"

The look on her face was fabulously luminous. After the most zestful two seconds of her entire life, she couldn't have heard any other words more perfect—or _stunning_, for that matter. "Sure! I would love to."

This time, they both leaned in at the same time, pausing shortly before contact, then connecting. They inhaling deeply and tautly, but didn't pull away quite as rapidly this time. Their lips barely moved, each delighting in the simple, pleasurable, and fascinating feeling of just kissing. The kiss lasted slightly longer this time, only a few seconds, but as they detached, satisfaction could not have been any more achieved.

"Oh man," Ash said sheepishly. "I can't believe we just did that—_twice_."

"Me neither," she acclaimed, shaking her head in wonder. 

Ash smiled bashfully, licking his lips. His blush had yet to dissolve. "You know, after what happened this morning, I thought you'd be beating me into the ground rather than kissing me."

Misty chortled. "Yeah, well, the world's full of surprises. Isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Ash replied emphatically. He gave her an anxious look. "So . . . did you . . . like it?"

She beamed, her shiny white teeth dazzling. "Ash, it was great! Just as I thought it would be."

"Well, not the same for me," Ash admitted, and she gave him an odd, perplexed face. "I thought it was going to be scary and really, really . . . well, _yucky_ . . . But it was anything but that. It was awesome . . . and I really _liked _it."

Misty took a deep, rewarding breath. The moment she had fantasized about for as long as she could remember had just happened, and yet it felt like a dream. She could still feel his soft, dry lips on her own, and wanted the feeling forever.

"So does this mean we're _really_ boyfriend and girlfriend now?" Ash laughed, his voice still shaky due to his riotous nerves.

"Ash," Misty beamed, "we were really boyfriend and girlfriend after the date. But . . . yeah, I guess you can say that."

Instead of sharing her beam, Ash's face fell suddenly into a despondent frown. Flustered, Misty tilted her head.

"What's the matter?" she asked gently.

He shrugged. "Nothing, I just remembered . . . you know, what I did this morning. About our next date."

Her smile vanished sadly. "Oh."

"I mean, you give me my first kiss, and what do I give you?" His gaze fell to his lap. "All I give you is disappointment."

Misty didn't say a word. She just stared at him somberly, trying to think of a way to tell him that everything would be okay. "Ash . . ."

Suddenly, he looked up, his eyes fervent with determination. "But don't worry, Misty. I'll get it back, I swear I will. If I have to beg at my mom's feet and be her slave or whatever for the week, I'll do it! I'll convince her to give us our date back, I promise."

Misty paused then grinned, his resolve to make things right causing her stomach to flutter in extreme elation. However, a thought shot to her mind and she attained a pensive look. "Actually, you know what, Ash? Maybe you should let me try to get our date back instead."

Ash's face scrunched. "Huh? Why?"

Misty cringed playfully. "Well, if our date _has_ to be postponed, I'd rather it be a week rather than a month."

His eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned, slightly insulted.

Giggling friskily, Misty gave his shoulder a few friendly punches. "Nothing, Ash, absolutely nothing," she teased. "Just . . . I have a good feeling that I have a better chance at convincing your mom than you do. Just a little bit."

She squeezed her thumb and index finger together to the point where they were barely touching, giving him a wink. Ash just slumped, shaking his head at her, but consented without a word. He actually felt better about this proposition; after all, he wasn't exactly enthusiastic to associate with his mom anytime soon. Especially when it came to getting back what she had quite resolutely taken away from him. 

"Well, the best of luck to you," he said somewhat jokingly, but then lowering his voice with serious graciousness. "Thanks."

"Aww," she cooed, sweeping her arms around him tightly in a hug. "It's no problem. And you don't have to worry, you hear me? No matter what stupid things you do, I still love ya."

Ash closed his eyes blissfully and melted into the embrace. _Hmm, guess dying my hair wasn't all that bad_, he thought.

"Oh, and Ash?" Misty said. Her voice was doused in facetious forewarning. "If I can't change your mom's mind, I'm taking Brock on that date."

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

I apologize if I disappointed anyone with my portrayal of Delia in last week's chapter. I never intended to stray from her original character; I only wished to give her more depth and expand on her emotions. I didn't make her infuriated to degrade her character, nor to degrade myself as a fanfiction writer who cares about her readers' opinions and concerns. I simply had her react as I thought she, as a parent, would, given her current state and the fact that not all people—as cheery and happy-go-lucky as they may be—can control anger at all times, especially the most challenging. I strive hard to keep my characters in character, and most importantly Delia, because she is a favorite of mine. Please be aware that I find this very crucial, but that I also like to have fun and experiment with this hobby, which includes integrating real-life situations and emotions into my stories. If I tend to do this often, it is not to offend anyone or purposely create disagreement. Please keep this in mind when you read my work: I try diligently to satisfy everyone, but all our opinions differ. 

I know many of you are probably dying _(yeah, yeah, corny pun :P) to know what Ash looks like with his red hair, huh? Hehe, well, ponder no more! Here's a couple of fanarts I did for the last two chapters, found at Llyxius-kad's website. At first I shuddered at the thought of Ash having red hair, but then when I actually saw it I thought he was kinda cute. ^_^ Ack, when's he _not_ cute? Enjoy! And tell me what ya think! ~_^ I'm sorry if the links don't work—they are correct, so maybe it's just the wacky internet. I dunno! LOL Hopefully they'll straighten themselves out . . ._

[http://www.geocities.com/cutenessinc/fanart/painsanddyes.jpg][1]

[http://www.geocities.com/cutenessinc/fanart/redemption.jpg][2]

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/cutenessinc/fanart/painsanddyes.jpg
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/cutenessinc/fanart/redemption.jpg



	9. Gained and Lost

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 9

Gained and Lost

Misty's first order of business that day was to get Delia alone to speak with her. Aside from the extraordinary and unexpected kissing session with Ash, an event she still tried to perceive as reality, it was the number one thing on her mind. Every moment, she was conscious to see what Delia was up to, where she could detain her briefly and without anyone else present. She didn't think it would be that difficult; with Ash avoiding her and Jay usually doing a few odds-and-ends, she was certain Delia would be alone sometime. Just enough time to make known her simple but crucial request.

It took quite some time, however, to get this first part accomplished. Breakfast was oddly prolonged this morning, and Jay seemed to be hanging around Delia more than usual, assisting her with tiny chores. Ash made himself scarce, and Brock was lounging around lazily, not getting in the way at all. Misty found herself wandering around the house for a better part of the morning, not having any specific direction or aspiration to do anything else. She hoped she looked more bored than sneaky. Being inconspicuous was not one of her strong points.

She was surprised to see that Delia was not as upset as she would have imagined. With Ash riling her up as he did, Misty was prepared to approach her with extra caution and innocence, not knowing what kind of mood she'd be in. Expecting somewhat of a grumpy and unstrung disposition, Misty was met with just the opposite. In the short times that she spoke with Delia, it was as though nothing provoking had happened. She looked peculiarly pale and subdued if anything, but not irked. This confused her in a sense, but it was certainly nothing to question as it, thankfully, was simply to her advantage.

Finally, when Ash came out of his mysterious hiding and literally implored his father to cut a barbecue for lunch, the house was vacated by all but Delia. The three boys were out in the back, entranced by the grill and showing no signs of coming in, while she had begun making some macaroni salad. Misty, jobless, slipped her way quietly into the kitchen, making only enough noise when plopping down into the chair to make her presence recognized.

A bit startled, Delia twisted her head around to find Misty smiling softly at her. 

"Hello, Misty," she mumbled affably, returning the pleasant face. Misty gave her a silly little wave in reply. 

"Hi."

"What can I do for you?" said Delia, turning back to the bowl of macaroni and proceeding to stir it vigorously.

Misty shrugged. "Nothing. Just sitting."

"Just relaxing?"

"Yeah," Misty sighed. 

"Okay."

The elastic grin on Misty's face remained as silence dominated the room. She sat in the chair buoyantly, her hands folded in her lap and her knees bouncing up and down. It was the only way she could release the tension of her important project, fortunately only appearing as a contented, worry-less action. It wasn't that she was nervous or even fearful of what she was about to undertake, but her desire to achieve the answer she wanted was making failure all the more foreboding.

"Don't you wanna go out and help with the fire, dear?"

Misty lifted her head as Delia's voice broke the quiet. She was actually hoping this would occur, as the stillness was producing an awkward air to settle in the room. 

"Oh, no," Misty smiled. "It's okay."

"You sure?" Delia asked. "Don't you want to see how many wild Pokémon are attracted by my son's head?"

Misty stifled a giggle. Delia turned around to share the banter, shaking her head. "Crazy kid."

"Yeah, I know," Misty agreed. She took a deep, sound breath. "Reeeeeally crazy."

"I can't get over that he did that," Delia groaned, returning to her task. Misty hummed in response, feeling all the more confident that Delia did not sound at all angry anymore. The last statement seemed like nothing more than a passing muse. 

Quiet ensued once again, edging Misty to bring up the subject like a persisting nudge. Each minute that passed in this incredibly convenient and opportune moment was slowly being wasted away, and she knew that the sooner it came out, the better it would probably be. She could just imagine finally getting to guts to speak, and then having Brock energetically dash into the kitchen and insist on helping with the macaroni salad.

A shiver ran up her spine as Misty thought this, and suddenly her feet commenced to tap on the floor. The mere "Um, Mrs. K?" was right on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't seem to get it out. 

_But I'm not scared to do this!_ she thought. _Am I . . . ?_

Misty could not understand her hesitance. It waged war with her urge to make things right of this disastrous morning, trapping her in the center of the incessant tug-o-war. All the signs were to her favor, or so it appeared. Delia was not at all crabby from the dye incident. No one was there to interrupt this meeting. Misty had a wonderful relationship with her, as she barely ever received a stern word from her. There was nothing hindering her ability to open up to Delia—but then again, she never quite planned on ever imposing on her disciplinary decisions. 

She cleared her throat, and held her breath as she suddenly realized how loud she did this. Not unexpectedly, Delia averted to give her an inquisitive look.

"Are you sure you don't want something?" she asked delicately.

"Oh, no, no," Misty hastily replied, though she didn't quite know why. _You idiot! Why'd you say that!?_ she berated herself, but luckily, she wasn't fooling Delia one bit.

She paused a moment before narrowing her eyes at the girl. "Yes you do," she snickered knowingly.

"No, I really don't!" Misty disputed. She couldn't stop the short laugh, amused but culpable, that burst from her mouth. "Really!"

Delia turned around completely, placing her hands on her hips. "Misty, I'm not dumb," she grinned. "I know that look."

"What look?" Misty cheeped, cringing sheepishly.

"That look!" Delia laughed, pointing at her. 

Misty threw her blushed face into her hands, embarrassed. This wasn't exactly how she wanted to bring this out into the open, but it spirited her nonetheless. Conscious to the fact that she was about to appeal for something that was very important, yet very risky, made her instantly neurotic. She lifted her head and smiled bashfully, finding Delia smirking at her.

"What is it that you want, honey? What's bothering you?"

"I dunno," Misty mumbled, still very insecure. "It's nothing . . ."

Delia tilted her head mindfully, giving her a tender look. "Does it by any chance have anything to do with a certain red-headed little boy we both know very well?"

Biting her lip, Misty nodded. "Kinda."

Delia nodded wisely. "And I assume it also has something to do with the fact that this certain little boy can't go anywhere this week?"

From her timely silence, Delia knew she apprehended the problem dead-on. It wasn't that difficult; as soon as it became evident that something was troubling Misty, she didn't think twice that it was Ash's little mistake and the consequences that were the cause. Misty was now staring almost beseechingly into her eyes, tapping her fingers together absentmindedly, precisely proving this assertion. 

"Well, you see," she started, still trying to conjure up some sort of stability in speaking of this, "it isn't that _completely_." Delia gave her an intrigued look, and she continued with an apprehensive smile. "It's just that—well, I'm not, you know, saying that Ash wasn't wrong in doing this, but—"

"You want me to let him off just this one time," Delia finished for her. Misty's mouth hung open from being interrupted, and she drew back slightly. Now that she had brought it up and the awkwardness had promptly soared, she wondered if it was best. But no! She couldn't think of it that pessimistically . . . if she really wanted to get this date back, she would have to defend her argument. Her way of accomplishing this, though, became foggy in an instant.

Misty inched forward in the chair as Delia pursed her lips thoughtfully. "No, it—it's not that," she said, feeling it was best to approach this as much as possible in Delia's favor. "I'm not saying that I want you to let him off. I mean, he did something dumb, and I understand. But . . ."

She suddenly found herself at a loss for words, not knowing exactly how to phrase it. All she needed to do was simply ask for Friday night, but the tension was oppressing her. Knowing she was fumbling this with her disconcerting statements, she quickly became dismayed. She wasn't doing well.

"Misty, look," Delia said gently. Despite her moderate tone, though, Misty found it despairing. There was something in just those two words that made her stomach sink hopelessly. "I know you're probably disappointed that Ash is in trouble, but you have to understand, I can't just let him off for this. He did something wrong, and if I don't do anything about it, he's never going to learn."

"No, I—I do understand!" Misty professed. "I do. And I agree with you! But he—he's kinda upset, and . . . well, couldn't you just forgive him . . . a little?"

Delia sighed. "It's not that I'm not forgiving him, Misty. Of course I am—I already have. And it's not that I'm entirely angry with him for doing that to his hair—I mean, that's certainly a large part of it, but just that fact that he looks like that, I . . ." She shrugged. "I just don't want anyone to see him like that. It's kind of embarrassing. I would've never allowed him to do that if he asked, and I don't feel like having him parading around town looking like that."

Misty nodded reluctantly. No signs were to her benefit . . . at least not yet. If she didn't want ordinary people on the street to see Ash's new hairdo, she certainly wouldn't embrace the concept of them eating in a fancy restaurant. She kept silent as Delia glanced out the window. 

"I should have just thrown that hair dye out," she said practically to herself. She beheld the sun dancing off the hair jutting from beneath Ash's hat, bringing out every luster of red. "I don't know what I was doing saving it. But regardless, Ash shouldn't have done that. He knows better than that, I know he does."

There was quiet for a moment before Misty was able to speak. "I know why he did it," she said inaudibly. Opportunity taken.

"Oh, so do I," Delia scoffed. "Because of Brock's hair. Yeah, I know. And I don't understand it. He's such an independent kid; he's not usually one to go and mimic someone like that."

"Well, actually . . . that's not really the reason," Misty said slowly.

This drew Delia's attention. "It's not?"

She shook her head. "He did it because he wanted to impress me." 

Delia's eyes widened. "He did?" she asked, her voice softly incredulous.

"Uh-huh," Misty nodded. She smiled daintily as the thought of Ash's actions brightened in her mind. "He was really upset when I got so excited about Brock's hair last night. He . . . well, he wanted the same attention from me that I gave Brock, so when he found the dye he . . . thought of me and . . ."

Delia was positively, but pleasantly, stunned. For a moment, she just stood there, gawking at Misty like she was telling some sort of tall tale. "Are you serious?" she exclaimed, grinning. "He wanted to impress you?" 

Misty nodded again. 

"Are you telling me that he was jealous?" Delia questioned faintly, unable to grasp it. "_My_ boy?"

Misty's heart beat excitedly; Delia's expression was good. It was _really_ good. Things were starting to look better, and Misty hesitated none in elaborating. 

"He didn't think it was going to cause anything bad," she explained a bit sadly. Delia's smile faded. "He didn't think it was going to get him in trouble. I guess . . . well, I guess you can say that it's my fault a little, too. I mean, it was because of me gushing over Brock last night that he did this. He . . . just didn't know."

Delia didn't say a word. She fell into silent thought, her eyes directed towards the floor. Every word that Misty had just relayed simply amazed her. At once, the situation procured a whole new light. She couldn't shake the warm and charming feeling that had swiftly captivated her, of what her boy had undertaken just to please his little girlfriend. It was a sensation that never before had she encountered, or that she had even imagined, and it overwhelmed her with sudden delighted pride.

Misty observed her attentively. Anxiously, she waited for Delia to speak, to let her know what she was pondering. What she reconsidering? Her blood raced, and gulping softly, she broke the silence.

"Fr-Friday . . ." she stuttered, quickly stabilizing her voice; "Friday night . . . Ash and I were going to go on a second date. We were going to go out for dinner."

Delia's head rose, her look pending and intrigued. "You were?" she said shortly. 

She nodded. "Ash, he's . . . he's upset, but mainly it's just because of that," Misty continued. "I mean, he's upset about all of it—especially about making you mad; he didn't want to do that . . ." _No harm in adding that in!_ "He's really sorry, and feels _really_ bad . . . And . . . and that's why I'm asking about this. I'm not asking you to completely change your mind, but . . ."

She paused momentarily, just to see if there was any use in carrying on. By this point, Delia looked contrite, giving her a gentle, almost apologetic smile.

"Misty . . . Honey, I didn't know you two were planning on going on another date. You—wait, you're going on another date _already_?"

Her skeptical grin made Misty giggle. "Yeah. We decided it last night. We had so much fun, we couldn't wait to do it again."

If Delia was somewhat regretful a moment ago, she was immensely hit by the feeling now. Placing her head in the palm of her hand and running her fingers through her auburn tendrils prudently, she sighed. How had this suddenly come into the picture? What was she going to say to that? 

"Look . . . oh dear . . . I—I'm so, so sorry to say this to you, Misty, especially since I can see you want it so much, but . . . I can't just change my mind on this, sweetheart." She frowned as Misty's eyes fell to her lap, despondent.

"Oh." 

"Please," she entreated, her voice intense with sincere sympathy, "I'm not doing this to be mean to you, you know that. You didn't do anything wrong, Misty, but Ash did. I'm . . . I'm sorry this had to happen now, but . . . but if you're upset about not going out on Friday, I'll be more than happy to take you out—like I did with Brock. I don't want you to think I don't care about your feelings—I _do_. I don't want to hurt you, and I'll make it up to you. I . . . I know it's not the same, but you have to understand . . . I'm doing this for a reason. You understand . . . don't you?"

Misty nodded haggardly, her eyes still down. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, but she fought them back. She didn't want to look ridiculous. Everything Delia was saying was true and entirely comprehensible, but nothing took away from the disappointment.

Her silence, however, was beginning to make Delia's heart heavy. She stared at the forlorn girl, an upwelling of guilt over her decision suddenly attacking her conscience. She battled the feeling, knowing she was doing the right thing, but she couldn't stand seeing that look on Misty—especially since she was part responsible. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to explain this to Misty, to further console her, but was beaten to the punch.

"What if . . ." Misty suddenly uttered, her eyes lifting expectantly to hers. Delia's eyebrows rose in intent reply. "What if . . . by Friday . . . the hair dye is gone? Can . . . can we go out then? Maybe . . . please?"

Delia gaped at her for a moment, overcome with her hopeful request. How could she say no to such a face? She was silent for a moment as she went over this in her mind, trying desperately to come up with a decision. She knew saying yes was wrong; she knew agreeing to this was just undoing everything she was trying to enforce. And yet, in the end, Misty's downcast face conquered it all.

Allowing a kind smile to flow to her lips, she sighed concedingly. "You know what?" She shrugged, throwing it all away. "Even if the dye isn't out . . . I . . . I suppose you can go."

Misty's face lit up magnificently, and in a second, she vaulted from her chair and threw her arms around Delia's neck in a jubilant hug.

"Thank you, Mrs. Ketchum, thank you, thank you!" she cried excitedly, jumping up and down. Delia laughed and hugged her back, her doubts over making the decision promptly vanishing.

"Awww, you're welcome," she said refreshingly. 

"Thank you, thank you!" Misty just repeated, refusing to let go of the hug. Happiness was sweeping through her body, success rejoicing in her blood. "Thank you sooooo much, Mrs. K! You're the best!"

Smiling, Delia patted her back soothingly, positively gratified with the bliss she had brought. She, concurrently, could not have been happier sharing this embrace with Misty, always accepting anything that would bring the two closer. Thinking about this, she emitted a silly chuckle.

"Hey, what happened to Ma?" she asked.

Misty released her, and grinned timidly. "Oh, I dunno," she shrugged, a small blush coloring her cheeks. "Guess . . . guess I just didn't think of it this time."

"Why not? I liked it," Delia said. Misty's look denoted her surprise, and she smiled.

"You did?" she asked airily. Delia could hear the relief flowing from her voice.

"Sure!" she replied. "Of course I liked it! You can call me anything you want to."

"I can? Really?"

"Yeah, certainly!" she replied assuredly, winking. "But just not Babycakes! That's what Jay calls me sometimes just to purposely get on my nerves, and I _hate_ it!"

Misty laughed boisterously. "Okay, I'll be sure to call you that!" she exclaimed humorously.

"Hey! I can take the date right back, you know!" Delia warned jokingly, pointing at her. Misty giggled, throwing her hands over her mouth. 

"Oops!" she squeaked, her restless limps making her bounce around giddily. Delia could sense her irrepressible excitement, and motioned towards the backyard with a toss of her head.

"Why don't ya go out there and tell the rascal the good news? And don't let him think this means he's totally off the hook! You watch; he's a sneaky kid. He'll think it!"

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't." Beaming, Misty trotted eagerly to the backdoor, the desire to see Ash sending rushes of adrenaline through her. She paused before letting herself out. 

"Thank you so much again—thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ You won't regret it, I promise."

"I don't think I will," Delia smiled graciously. "Scoot." And with that, Misty took her leave. 

She skipped out the door on light toes, bouncing heartily over to the barbecue. Her elated approach drew the attentions of Ash, Jay, and Brock, but not one said a word—save for Ash, who yelped loudly as Misty seized hold of his arm and yanked him rather forcefully away.

"_Misty!_" Ash exclaimed, tripping over his feet as she hauled towards the front yard. He had enough of people pulling his arm today—it was starting to get sore like nobody's business. "What the heck—?"

"Ash, Ash, Ash!" was all Misty gibbered, dancing about before him as she led him to the patio. She sat and pulled him down next to her, nearly ripping his arm out of its socket from her unrestrained exhilaration.

Ash, flabbergasted by her incoherent babbling, gawked at her. "What is it?"

The grand smile that flashed across Misty's face was matchless. "I got our date back!" she squealed, clutching fistfuls of his shirt and shaking him wildly. "I got it back!"

Ash's eyes lit up with surprise. "You did?" he gasped. "You got it back?"

"Yes, yes!" Thrilled, Misty nodded energetically. Every second that passed enhanced her triumph, as she was still in disbelief that she had attained it herself. But there was no need to think about how it was done anymore—they had their date back, and nothing could be more right with the world.

Ash looked positively radiant. "What about the rest of the week?" he asked hopefully.

Misty narrowed her eyes. "Be happy with what I got," she grumbled threateningly.

Ash immediately held out his hands in defense, grinned nervously. "Hey, hey, I am! I am! Just an innocent question, that's all!"

Her sour look disappeared in a second. "Aren't ya happy?" she asked, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them tightly.

Ash smiled broadly. "Yeah, of course I am!" he said. "I'm just so . . . _shocked!_ You convinced Mom? How'd you _do_ that?"

Misty thrust her nose into the air proudly. "I have my ways," she replied. "I just walked up to her and said: 'Mrs. Ketchum, I _demand_ you give us back our date—or _else_!'"

"Uh-huh!" Ash retorted, giving her a face. "And then you _ran_, I hope!"

Cringing playfully, they broke into hearty laughter.

"I can't believe you pulled that off," Ash said, his eyes darting outrageously. The amusement hardly surpassed his awe. "I would've never thought she'd say yes to that! I mean, she was so—it's just so . . ."

"What do you say to me, Ash?" Misty asked, batting her eyelashes at him. 

Ash blinked contentedly. "Thanks, Misty."

"Hey," Misty smiled, "I did it for the both of us. I'm surprised I got it back too, believe me! It really wasn't _that_ easy, actually. For a while, it didn't look like she was going to reconsider."

"Well, you musta said _something_ to her that changed her mind," Ash pointed out. 

Misty giggled and shrugged. "Nothing really. You just gotta know how to look real sad and disappointed—and use the waterworks a little."

"Wha!? You mean you _cried_?" Ash exclaimed incredulously.

Laughing, Misty shook her head. "Nooo! I didn't cry—I'm kidding." 

Ash slouched, rolling his eyes at her nonsense. No matter what the situation was, she always found a way to tease him. At this moment, though, he didn't care at all. He was so overwhelmed with surprise and happiness over her achievement that he felt nothing but respect for her.

"Well, whatever you did," Ash said softly, giving her a bona fide look of gratitude, "I'm glad you did it."

Touched by his beholden words, Misty melted, her smile embellishing the crimson hue that tinged her cheeks. She looked down briefly, a humble giggle escaping her.

"Well . . . if you're really happy that I got our date back," she said a bit enticingly, "then how 'bout we try another kiss?" An excitable shiver ran up her spine; she'd awaited all day in suspenseful expectation for the next chance to try it again.

Ash's eyes hastily went wide. "Another? Already?"

Misty's jaw dropped, shocked but humored. "What are you talking about, Ash Ketchum? What, there has to be some sort of designated time period between each kiss?" She chuckled.

"Uh, well, no," Ash said, fidgety. "I mean . . . we just did it before! You already want to do it again?"

"Sure!" Misty said affirmatively, shrugging. She gave his shoulder a nudge. "Why, you don't want to? I thought you liked it!"

"I do, I do!" Ash asserted, sweatdropping. He looked about, craning his head around Misty's to look down the road. "But . . . in the front yard? Right here?" 

He winced as he said this; he didn't mean to sound so against it. It wasn't that he had anything against kissing, but the thought of doing it where they were, out in the open for anyone to see them, made him instantly timorous. All of sudden, it felt as though hundreds of eyes were on them, hidden in all places just to get that one sneaky glimpse at them.

Gawking at him for a moment, Misty gave him a face. "Whaddah ya think, a bunch people are gonna come and line up to watch us?" she laughed. She, also, glanced down the road both ways, and upon noticing not a person or car in sight, flashed a cheeky grin. "There's no one here! C'mon!"

Ash ground his teeth, his shaky eyes fixed into her mesmerizing ones. "Bu-but my mom—or—or Brock! They could catch us! Or Professor Oak! He could come riding down here on his bike and see us!" he stammered, pointing down the road.

"So what?" Misty whimpered, still grinning. She tugged on his shirt impatiently.

"_So what?_ If he sees us, my mom'll know in two seconds! Not even!"

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Misty!"

He was getting freaked by this point, and she reached out to restrain him. She grabbed hold of his arms and shushed him, calming his turbulent breathing gradually.

"Shhhh! Ash, Ash, shhh!" she sighed, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. Really! No one is coming. Okay?" Ash gulped in forfeit, and Misty laughed good-naturedly. "We can do this."

"Um . . ." 

__

Oh, stop it! he scolded himself. _She's right, just do it! You . . . know you want to._ Of course he wanted to. But _here_? They had to do it right here? His heart beat agitatedly, but he could do this. After all, no one _was _going to find them. He knew it was nothing more than a worry. "Okay . . ."

Squealing quietly, Misty brushed her ginger bangs out of her face with a swish of her fingers. Ash just sat and smiled tensely, waiting for her to be ready. As much as he was cautious, he was excited as well. Like Misty, he couldn't get the memory of their first kiss out of his head, or the feeling of it, either. It was something so new and so intriguing . . . and so much fun. The way his body was tingling with thrill convinced him undoubtedly of his anticipation. 

They joined hands, but Misty took one away momentarily to knock Ash's hat out of the way. It flopped crookedly on his head, giving him such an irresistibly cute appearance that she had to laugh. Misty barely even noticed the red hair anymore. The only thing she was concentrating on was his face: his deep brown eyes; his adorable, boyish grin; his hairline, glistened with just a trifle of sweat. 

"And let's try a little longer than just a second this time," she proposed whimsically. Ash chuckled under his breath in agreement, smiled a little erratically, and they moved in—this time with barely any delay, pressing their lips together in a relishing, gentle little kiss. 

After just a few seconds, Ash's face itched to pull away. Quickly and determinedly, however, he willed himself to continue. He had yet to experience this over five seconds, and each one that passed after that mark was poignant and affective. It distressed him momentarily, but before he had a chance to react, he slowly felt himself loosening up, reclining. Her lips were becoming increasingly warm against his, soft and comforting. The kiss was inert but powerful, sending waves of serenity through him. 

__

I really like this! he thought. He still couldn't get over this discovery. _This is really cool! I _really_ like this!_

Misty's thoughts were not unlike his—not by a long-shot. Her heart was thumping unstoppably as she delighted in the kiss, her surroundings suddenly becoming hazy, then nonexistent. She couldn't believe she was doing this; even the third time was a dream. Softly, she removed her lips from their lock to deliver a few pecks instead, which, to her rapture, Ash simulated. The world became silent around them, their thoughts exclusively on each other and nothing—or anybody—else. 

This was not the case in the backyard. Jay was whistling cheerily, complacently removing the perfected burgers from the grill. Taking in the luscious aroma of the lunch, he was eager to get everyone together to eat. His regard drifted to the whereabouts of Ash and Misty, who had been gone for quite a few minutes now. He was ready to go and fetch them as Brock exited the house, hands full of paper plates and plastic utensils. 

"There you are. Where are those two, ya know?" Jay asked him as they set their respected components for the lunch on the table. 

Brock glanced towards the front yard and shrugged. "They must be out in the front."

"They better be," Jay said. "Ash can't go anywhere."

"I'm sure they are. I'll go get 'em," Brock said, jogging off towards the front yard. He himself wondered what they were up to all quiet out there. He offhandedly figured they had engaged in another of their soppy little talks. It was nothing new anymore, and this astonished him. Never believing he'd be able to think that with a straight face, he couldn't conceive how their relationship had gradually gone from being phenomenal to just normal. 

What he did see, on the other hand, was definitely _not _normal. Thankfully, he did not shout out their names upon rounding the bend of the house. Any words that he was ready to utter were shoved right back into his mouth, despite his notably dropping jaw. His eyes widened, and he was halted drastically in his tracks as though he had walked directly into a brick wall.

There were Ash and Misty—kissing. They were _kissing_. Seated beside each other, their hands were linked, their eyes were blissfully shut, and their lips were touching. Their lips were _touching! _

Oh—my—GOD! Brock thought, instantly retreating behind the house and out of view. For a moment, he just stood there and practically hyperventilated, sprawled against the house for support. He shut his eyes violently, trying to clear his head of what he'd seen. It had to be a fallacy, it had to be! There was _no way_ in the world he just saw what he thought he did!

Biting his lip, he took hold of the corner of the house, poked his head around, and fixing his gaze upon his unsuspecting friends. This time, the effect was a lot less abrupt on him, but was still hardly believable. What he was seeing was not a delusion. Ash and Misty were still there, very much real, very much visible, very much in the act of kissing. Brock gawked, blown out of his mind.

__

I can't believe it! he thought incredulously. The hugging and holding hands were one thing, but this was completely beyond belief. He rubbed his eyes once more in an excessive attempt to prove this was just a figment of his imagination, but it wasn't that at all. He had no choice but to stand there and watch, allowing, finally, a small smile of stupefaction to pull at his lips. Even though they were kissing, he had to chuckle to himself at the amateurish way they were going about it. They couldn't possibly be any more motionless; their lips alone looked like they were simply crazy-glued together. 

__

That is so cute_!_

Just as he was settling into the position of the dubious spectator, they pulled away from each other, giggling childishly. Brock, startled, rushed to make sure he was not in sight, and observed intently. 

"Huh. That barbecue is starting to smell _real_ good," remarked Ash, only to get a playful whack on the head from Misty.

"That's all you're gonna say after that?" she exclaimed, inducing her boyfriend to laugh. 

__

That was their first time? Brock wondered, smacking his forehead. _Ash, you idiot, you just kissed her! Don't comment on the damn barbecue! _

"No!" Ash replied. He lowered his voice affably. "Of course not. The kiss was fun! And a lot easier this time."

__

What? How many times have they done it!? Brock cocked his head interestedly.

"I know," Misty agreed. "The first time I was all nervous, too. But it's just gonna get more fun and more . . . _romantic_ from now on." She gave him flighty, almost alluring eyes, and Ash scratched the back of his head, sweatdropping.

__

Romantic? Oh man! Brock was still dumbfounded, but was getting considerably excited. This was _way_ toofascinating! He couldn't help but urge them inwardly, _Do it again!_

"I'm sure it will," Ash said, shivering excitedly at the thought. "Can't wait!" At that moment, his stomach rumbled, and he blushed. 

"Well, seems like your gut can't wait to eat," Misty snickered. "I'm kinda hungry, too, though. The burgers're probably ready."

"Yeah." 

With that, Ash rose, extending his hand to help Misty up. Brock rapidly ran back a few feet and turned, bracing himself and trying hard to act casual despite what he had just seen. He wasn't sure if he could do it, but as Ash and Misty approached, he started to walk forward without a second thought, just as if he had then departed to find them. 

"There you guys are!" he said, his phony address making his stomach clench humorously. The effort it was taking to conceal his secret was going to be tougher than he thought. He could barely look into their faces and not see them kissing in his mind. "Lunch's ready!"

"We're comin', we're comin'," Misty smiled. She glanced at Ash and went to fix his hat, but with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, wound up pulling it down over his face instead. With a giddy whoop, she ran. Ash struggled to straighten it, putting on a facetious scowl of outrage.

"Oh, that's it, Misty!" he laughed, taking off after her. "Come back here!"

They charged past Brock one by one, their laughs resounding tumultuously. He couldn't help but grin then at their silliness; they were so young, astounding him all the more that they could take up such a mature affair. 

The two rollicked into the backyard, encircling the barbecue countless times in the pursuit. Jay watched them happily, shaking his head at Misty's spirited cries for help before darting into the chase and relieving her of her predator. Swooping his guffawing son into his arms, he carried him, playfully kicking and squirming, to the picnic table, ending the active sport. 

"Eat your burger, Bozo," Jay quipped, giving Ash a pat on the head.

"Don't call me that!" Ash squealed, panting from the laughter and fun. 

"Hey, you're gonna have to put up with the nicknames, Red," his dad replied, dodging the frisky punch Ash sent his way and retaliating with his own, chuckling heartily. "Too bad."

"Dad, cut it out!" Ash groaned lightly. He didn't add much to his plea, however, as his attention was drawn by the tempting smell of the hamburgers. He reached over to snatch one energetically as the others sat down, famished from the ruckus in the hot sun.

"Macaroni salad's here!" the sing-song voice of Delia's rang out then as the back door banged shut behind her. 

Ash glanced up but turned away almost immediately, his smile fading disquietedly. Their morning conflict was still feeding his embittered attitude towards her. It wasn't that he was deliberately shunning her, especially since she had granted their date back, but he still couldn't help but get a stab of discomfort whenever they were in the aftereffect of a disagreement as intense as that. 

Nevertheless, he couldn't resist her macaroni salad. He kept his gaze down, but still watched her approach out of the corner of his eye, his mouth watering. He hoped that this lunch out of anything would heal their temporarily rough relationship, as it already seemed she was in a better mood. Delia was noticeably light on her feet as she pranced over to the table, and a small smile returned effortlessly to his face. 

"Hope you're all hung—" She halted abruptly, the bowl of salad falling from her hands onto the table. It rolled around violently as her face promptly distorted, her lips recoiled to show her gritted teeth. To the confounded horror of the others, she bent over, wrapping one arm around her midsection and the other grasping out for the edge of the table in support.

"Delia!"

"Mrs. Ketchum!"

An array of startled clamor chimed from the table, and they all shot from their chairs, Jay even more so as bolted at once to assist her. Ash just stared confusingly, his eyes blazing with fear and worry as he watched his mother moan in agony.

"Mom . . . ?" he whimpered. This voice was hardly audible as it was drowned out simultaneously with his father's.

"Are you okay? What's the matter!?" Jay asked distressfully, clutching his cringing wife's arms anxiously. 

"Hurts," she gasped. The pain that had unexpectedly invaded her just seconds ago was beginning to subside, though the throbs it produced continued to soar through her body, numbing her muscles and buckling her knees. If not for Jay's strong grasp, she was sure she would have collapsed. The unforeseen attack had left her so suddenly depleted of all stability that she could barely stand. 

"Hurts!?" echoed Jay. "Hurts where?"

_Everywhere!_ she screamed in her mind.

"Mrs. Ketchum, are you okay?" Misty asked, finally leaving her seat and rushing to her side. Brock did the same, but Ash remained, motionless, his face suddenly drained off all color. 

Delia shook her head roughly in reply. "I . . . I—I need to sit down . . ." she groaned. _Oh my God, I'm going to die . . ._

"Okay, okay, it's all right," Jay hushed, hastening in guiding her carefully to her chair. She crashed into it, but the relief of being off her feet didn't help alleviate the pain. She drew her knees up and hugged them. 

__

Why does this keep happening? 

All she knew was that minutes ago she was contentedly helping Brock get plates, not feeling completely wonderful but not horrible, either. She hadn't felt any cramps whatsoever since her squabble with Ash earlier, but the event had left her consumed. She hoped it was all that would come out of it, that the worst was over. Just a few pregnancy pains, that was all. That's what she wanted it to be, that's what she tried to convince herself of over and over again all that morning and afternoon. They would go away . . . they didn't mean anything bad. 

__

Then why do they feel like they're . . . ? 

"What's the matter?" Jay asked. His voice was so drenched in panic, so full of tenderness. She took deep breath after deep breath and opened her eyes, taking in the sight before her. Her husband was before her, his gaze burning intently. Misty and Brock were hovering over as well, looking just as worried. And Ash . . . where was Ash? She didn't get a chance to search before Jay's shaky voice broke the silence again, this time intensified with demanding alarm.

"Delia, you're so pale! Are you _okay_!?"

"I don't know," she answered after a short pause, her tone haggard and trembling. Wincing, she looked about and finally found Ash. He was still standing at his place, his half-eaten burger held listlessly in his hand. He stared directly at her with dull eyes, too overwhelmed with shock and disorientation to move.

_Ash . . ._

"You don't look good, Mrs. Ketchum," Brock noted, taking Delia's regard from her son. "Maybe you should lay down."

"Not maybe," Jay contradicted firmly. "She _is _going to lay down. You don't look good, Delia—not at all."

"I'm okay now . . . I think," Delia responded unclearly. The cramps were finally gone, but that didn't mean they weren't going to return. Delia knew they would. Although her body was presenting no sign of pain to come, she could feel it; something told her it was coming . . . 

"I don't think you are," Jay shook his head. "You must be coming down with something; you need some rest. Come on now."

He held down his hand to her, and she took hold of it, allowing him to lift her out of the chair. Rest sounded good—it sounded _real _good. It all left her weary and helpless, and she honestly couldn't imagine doing anything else at the moment. The backyard became silent as Jay escorted her towards the door, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Lay down as long as you want, okay?" he whispered to her. "I don't like what's going on with you lately. I'm scared."

_Not as scared as me._ "I'll be okay," Delia replied lightly. She turned around one last time to give the kids a slight, farewell smile, lingering just a bit longer on Ash. It was amazing how much better she felt in an instant as he returned the smile, albeit still sheepish. It meant so much to her, vanquishing over—though for a very brief time—her terrible worries.

Jay gave her a gentle kiss and held the door for her. "Rest up," he advised her once more, and let the door close. It slammed behind her loudly, and she cringed, desisting in her path harshly. Shutting her eyes as they succumbed to tears, she reached to massage her stomach lovingly, her fingertips caressing the barrier between them and the special little being within her. With a heavy sigh, she looked down, tilting her head delicately.

"What's going on in there, my little baby?" she murmured, choking back a sob as she started the somber walk to her bedroom. "What's happening to you?"

Delia had no idea how long she slept. She was brought out of deep slumber quite brusquely, and was shocked to see that it was dusk. Squinting tiredly, she glanced at the clock and almost did a double take when she discovered the time.

"Nine o'clock?" she groaned incredulously, her head falling back to the pillow. Where had the time gone? She hadn't planned on sleeping that late! Immediately, a slew of concerns rushed to her head. Where was everyone? Were they all right? What had they done for dinner? The house was quiet, but she wasn't sure how to discern this. Completely overwhelmed and muddled by her weariness, she pushed her covers aside and attempted to get out of bed, only to be informed of what had actually awoken her.

The sharp jab of pain came so suddenly and so violently, inducing the loud, agonizing howl that exploded from her lungs. She muffled it as she buried her head into the bedcovers, gripping them to the point where her knuckles turned deathly white. 

"Oh my God, oh my God, _what is this!?_ What's _happening_ to me!?" she screamed through clenched teeth as the pain slashed through her abdomen mercilessly. She knew what it was, though. Dreadfully, it wasn't new to her. Tears dripping down her cheeks, she staggered to her knees, only to be taken again by another brutal spasm. She couldn't remain that way; she lay back down and balled herself up into a fetal position, trying with all her might to bear through the indescribable pain that was invading her body.

"Please God, please," she pleaded through sobs, feeling another wave approaching. "Don't do this to me . . . please make it stop. _Don't do this to me!_"

It couldn't be happening again. She wasn't going to accept it. But she was powerless, unable to even think straight. The pain was not ceasing; her prayers were not being answered.

"Jay, where are you . . . ? Please come here, please," she moaned silently, as she could not produce a voice vital enough to beckon him. She could only trust that he would show up. She needed him there; she needed him to hug her, to comfort her, to make things better again. He could do that . . . even if there was no more hope . . .

Finding nowhere else to go, she slid back into her warm covers and drew herself in, feeling every tumult of agitation going on inside of her. Sure enough, another stab, though less coarse, roared through her midsection and prompted her teeth to grind in incomparable torture. Her head became dizzy and ponderous with the pain. Her world was blacking out around her, and she submitted to it, losing consciousness to her weakening, distressed body.

When her eyes opened, it was bright—blindingly bright in a jovial, warm way. She was happy—she could feel this radiating from her colossal smile and free-spirited disposition. All was right in the world. Taking a refreshing breath, she glanced downward, restricted from seeing her feet due to the large round mass that used to be her stomach. She stroked it affectionately, feeling the life contained within it. 

"Soon," she hummed pleasantly. "Soon, my little Ash . . . you'll be here. Aren't you excited? Everyone's waiting to see you . . . Daddy and me—especially me, my baby. I can't wait to hold you . . ."

She strolled through the hazy environment that enclosed her, her caressing hand never leaving her stomach. The air about her smelled sweet and lively.

"And to think," she continued to coo, "you have so much ahead of you. You're going to be in the Pokémon League, you know that? You'll have Pikachu and all your other Pokémon who work so hard for you. You're going to do so well . . . you're going to make me so proud! And Misty and Brock . . . why, they'll be here, too, cheering you on. Misty especially. She loves you, my dearheart . . . and you'll love her, too. She cares so much about you . . . Don't you want to come out? We're all waiting . . ."

Suddenly, she felt a kick within her, and her face glowed with extreme happiness. Was her baby coming, her Ash? Halting, she looked down with anticipative impatience. She couldn't handle it anymore; she wanted her baby. She wanted to cradle him, kiss him. Her bliss heightened with another kick.

Simultaneous with her squeal for joy, however, the brightness all at once dissolved into darkness. Everything went foul, and Delia cowered, alarmed from the desolate change. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her womb, protecting it. No one or nothing would harm her baby. She would kill before anything got to her unborn child.

"What's happening?" she shouted out into the black oblivion, her voice shaky with terror. "Leave us alone . . .!"

But she was defenseless. Before she knew it, she felt her stomach shrinking beneath her arms, her pregnancy disappearing before her skeptical eyes. 

"No!" she gasped, helpless to what was occurring. She could only traumatically watch, sobs overcoming her. "No! Please don't! Don't take him from me! _NO!_"

It was futile. Her stomach flattened to nothing, and she fell to her knees, crying. The darkness swallowed her, leaving her grieving, alone, childless . . .

Delia awoke with a racing, frenzied heart. Her eyes instantly narrowed against the beams of brilliant sunlight that spilled through the window, declaring a new day. Letting out a deep, almost exhausted groan, her head sank into the pillow again. She trembled, the grim, horrid scenes of the dream replaying over and over in her head. What a nightmare it had been . . . an upsetting, heart-wrenching nightmare. She shut her eyes against the pooling, salty moisture that assailed them, unable to rid her mind of the imagines, the feelings, the indefinable recall of loss.

Sniffling, she flipped over to the other side, extending her arm out longingly to feel for her husband, to attain the warmth and solace she craved from his presence. Instead, her hand fell to the emptiness beside her, and opening her eyes, beheld nothing but pushed-aside sheets and an indented pillow. Jay had already gone to work. Oh, how could she have slept through him leaving? She missed him; she needed him. This brought an even stronger onrush of tears, and she clenched his still-warm pillow in her fist.

The pain was gone. It took a moment for her to fully this realize this. She lay still as stone in bed and thought. The dream was not going away. The dream, the nightmare—the nasty concoction of her imagination. She hoped that's all it was. Just a product of her nervousness, her dread; an exaggeration of the horror that she experienced the night before. She was making this hard on herself. The pain was gone . . . nothing was wrong. It was just a false alarm.

Wiping the tears from her eyes and hair from her face, Delia lifted the sheets off and swung her legs out. She sat on the side of the bed for a minute and just breathed, letting her groggy head adjust to the sensation of being awake. She needed a shower—no, a long, hot bath. That's what she needed. Nothing was going to take the disturbing nightmare from her mind, but at least it would make her feel better. 

Delia rose slowly, but barely walked a stride before she froze, her heart lurching in her chest. Her pajama pants, heavy and damp, gently brushed against her legs. All air escaped from her lungs. No . . . it couldn't be. Perhaps this was just another part of the nightmare. Maybe she hadn't woken up yet . . . 

With every urge of dreadful concern, she turned, reaching out for her bundled bedcovers with a reluctant hand. Pausing as she grasped hold of them, she winced, terrified, praying with all her soul that it wasn't what she feared. God wouldn't let it. She was convinced of this—_wanted_ to be convinced, but that strong belief was crushed in a instant as she drew the sheets aside, taking in the appalling, tragic sight that lay before her unwilling eyes.

"No . . ." she whimpered inaudibly, a hand flying to her mouth. She shook her head incredulously as she backed away from the bed. Her world shattered.

For the second time in her life, her baby was gone.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

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This chapter is for you, Dragoness!! ~_^ Sorry it has to be such a sad one. -_-;; **Have a very, very happy 18th Birthday!**_ ^___^ I can't remember what Ash gifts I gave you last year, LOL, so I hope these are good! *showers her with Ash gifts* Thank for being a great pal!_

Thank you for all your reviews and for reading my story. Like I said in the past, it means the world to me. See you all next week! ^__^

P.S. If you want to see my fanart from the previous chapter, just cut and paste the link onto the browser strip—or whatever it's called. ^^ I'm not much of a computer whiz…


	10. Despair

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 10

Despair

The house was quiet and peaceful as Delia dragged herself down the stairs haggardly, her dirty sheets and pajamas bundled in her arms. It was still rather early, not even eight yet, but she had no idea of the time. She didn't know much of anything, nor did she care. Staring dismally into space with her red, raw eyes, her head wandered as she shuffled toward the hamper. She felt miserable, and there was no doubt in her mind that she looked miserable, too. She was thankful the kids were still in bed; they didn't have to see how pitiful her appearance was. For the moment, all she wanted was a shower and a cup of coffee, and hoped she could get this done before any one of the three appeared. 

Her head hung as she approached the empty wash basket. Depositing her laundry reluctantly, she bit back the new wave of tears that swept unwillingly to her eyes. She knew crying wasn't going to change anything, but as she threw the only remnant of her short pregnancy away as if it were simply a pair of filthy socks, a horrendous feeling of remorse invaded her again. 

How was she going to get through with this? Her baby was gone, dead, never given a chance to even grow and develop. What had she done wrong? What had she done to deserve this horror and dejection for a second time? The first time had been bad enough, but she couldn't remember feeling any more terrible than she did now. Worse yet, she didn't even know why it happened, what was occurring inside her body. Was she unhealthy? Had she been working too hard? What was the reason behind it? 

Delia couldn't think reasonably. She wanted Jay more than anything. Although the three kids were peacefully slumbering only a floor above her, she felt alone. An inconceivable event had just befallen her, and yet, she was the only one who knew, the only one suffering. A day ago, everything she was doing was for two: eating, sleeping, _moving_. She was never really alone. She carried her unborn child with happiness and pride, ready and eager to do whatever it took to make sure everything went smoothly. But what did it add up to now? Nothing . . . absolutely nothing. 

Not realizing how long she stood over the basket looking down at her sheets, she finally grasped hold of herself and took the wash to the basement. It broke her heart again as she tossed it into the machine and turned it on, washing away her few weeks of bliss, a symbol of her and Jay's love. Delia couldn't bear it anymore; she tore away from the machine and made her way slowly upstairs, one and only one thought going through her mind.

__

I want to die.

She worked to prepare the coffee as she normally did, although more sluggishly. There was no energy or ambition in her body to allow her to move. The shower was the number one concern on her mind, and each second that passed as she fumbled to prepare her morning drink was making her restless and dazed. She was ready to give up when the coffee grounds spilled all over the counter and the floor from her trembling hand, but she paused instead, taking deep breaths before going at it once more. If this was the way she was going to be, she didn't know how she was going to make it. Everything, even the simple action of brewing coffee, was collapsing before her dismayed eyes.

"Hi Mom."

Startled, Delia was wrenched from her hysteria, spinning around to discover Ash in the doorway of the kitchen. He was giving her a mild, coquettish smile. 

"How are you feeling? Better?"

Delia didn't respond. All she could do was stare at her son, her life, her precious Ash. The dreadful nightmare returned in a flash to her mind. But that's all it was; in reality, he was here before her, his darling smile working its way to her heart, overwhelming her with an immense feeling of love towards him. Tears threatening all over again, but for an entirely different purpose, she hustled towards him and enveloped him in a fervent, gripping embrace.

"Oh, Ash, Ash," she sighed emotionally, hugging him as strongly as she possible could. "My sweet baby . . ."

"Ma?" Ash asked, confused. He went to look into her face to see what was the meaning behind such a tremendous hug, but he could barely move. Delia cuddled his head strongly, and pressed long, loving kisses into his hair. 

"My boy, my dear boy," she repeated sweetly.

"Mom, whaddah ya doing?" Ash emitted a small laugh amidst his perplexity. He couldn't help but smile as she hugged him in response, rocking him as she did so. Whatever it meant, he liked it. There was never any way he could refuse such affection. Happily, he hugged her back, allowing her to draw his head close to her warm chest. 

"I love you so much," Delia whispered into his ear. Her voice cracked with oncoming sobs, but it failed in interrupting the heartfelt words she passed on to Ash. There was no power in the world that would tear him from her arms at that moment. "I love you so much, my little boy. Oh God, I love you."

"I love you, too," Ash replied. However, his face was strained with worry as he heard her crying. "But Mom, what's the matter? Why are you crying?"

This time he was able to maneuver his head to look up at her. He shuddered as he took in her appalling state. Her ghastly pale skin and reddened, bloodshot eyes completely ravished her pretty face. It was enough to make his own eyes sting with tears, as it disturbed him considerably anytime she was so upset.

"Oh, Ash," his mother sniffed, taking his face in her hands, "I'm crying because I love you! I love you so much, and I . . . and I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry I got mad at you! I'm sorry I was mean to you!"

At that, she jerked him in for another crushing hug.

"Mom," Ash choked, smiling, "it's okay! You weren't mean to me."

"Yes I was! I shouldn't get upset with you for all the little mistakes you make, or—or the mischievous things you do! You're such a good, good boy, and I love you so much! I'm so lucky to have you! I don't know what I'd do without you . . ."

Ash giggled as her endless kisses tickled. This certainly was a pleasant shock. He never expected for her to get all teary-eyed and repentant over reprimanding him for the dumb hair dye episode, but he wasn't going to oppose it. He lolled in her arms and relaxed in her doting attention. 

"I'm sorry," Delia apologized softly but intensely, stroking his hair. She sniffled heavily, hot tears trailing down her cheeks. "You're such a good boy. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I love you."

His lips curving into a boyish grin, Ash tilted his head to look innocently into his mom's face. "Um, does this mean I still can't go anywhere?" It was worth a shot.

Shakily, Delia laughed, gazing admiringly into her son's eyes. "Baby, you can go to _Disney World_ today if you want to!"

Beaming, Ash swung his arms around her again. "Thanks, Mama!" he cried, his voice perky with pleasure. 

Delia held him fiercely, taking every bit of appreciation and rapture out of just the feeling of her child in her arms. She was utterly pleased with his happiness. Thinking of how downhearted he was yesterday hurt her so. She wanted nothing more than to just stay there all day, holding him and never letting go again. But after a few moments, she felt Ash squirming slightly, and graciously (and a tad reluctantly) let him go and sit at the table. Ash practically floated there, flushed from the strong feeling of love that he had attained from her fond manner.

He gave her another coy grin as she simply smiled at him, basking in the joy of seeing him before her, knowing he was hers and no one would ever take him from her. 

"What's for breakfast?" he asked eagerly.

Delia sighed. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Oooh, well in that case, I want pepperoni pizza, nachos, and a milk shake!" Ash joked, getting playfully excited.

Smiling immensely, Delia reached to brush the tears from her eyes. More were coming, but she couldn't cry anymore in front of Ash. He didn't need to see her collapse, be subjected to the agony she was concealing. She wondered if she would ever get the strength to tell him.

"Sillyhead," she mumbled affably, and Ash laughed. 

"Well, Misty likes pancakes, so I'd like that."

"Oh, so now we're ordering for Misty?" 

He blushed bashfully. "Yeah, I guess so."

Though she still adored the thought of a shower, attending to her boy's breakfast was more important. She didn't want to leave his presence or let him out of her sight. Not now at least. As grimy and sick as she felt, just being with Ash was lifting her spirits substantially. She knew, however, that she couldn't be with him all day, and the thought instantly saddened her. Although she normally went in to work on Monday mornings, there was no way she was going to make it there today. She had something more crucial to take care of, and as much as she dreaded it, she realized that a trip to the doctor would be the wisest choice at the moment. 

"Are you feeling better, Mom?" Ash asked again suddenly, making Delia hold her breath. 

She turned to him, and was able to manage a weak smile. "Y-yeah. Pretty much . . ."

Ash smiled. "I'm glad. I was worried about you. You looked so sick."

It took a second for Delia to swallow the lump in her throat. "Don't worry," she lied, hating that she was doing so, but only to protect him, "I'm better now." She smiled. "Thanks for worrying about me."

"Always," Ash replied, a little shocked that she thanked him for something that was only natural. 

Delia knew she had to get rid of that subject and fast. Already, she could feel the urge to cry coming on again, and she needed to fight it with the dwindling strength she had left. 

"So . . . um, what did you and Misty do yesterday?" she asked, her tone engaging. She forced the cheery disposition as she went to get the pancake batter. "Something fun?"

"Well," Ash shrugged, "nothing much really . . ." 

"You must have done something," his mother said. "Misty told me you're going on another date already. Have any plans yet?"

"No. Just that we're going to go out for dinner. But we haven't decided on where we're going yet."

__

Dinner . . . Delia paused as this swept to her mind. She couldn't believe she was hearing it. Unlike the first time, however, she was hardly displeased with it—she was amazed. Surprisingly, and to her softening reluctance, his growing up was starting to take a new hold on her. She was happy—and wanted—to see him grow, to try new things and experience the life that was being plotted out for him. He was grasping so many new opportunities, so many things she herself had never accomplished. Going out to dinner on a date in itself was something she never had until she met Jay.

"Sounds like a wonderful thing to do, no matter where you go," she said softly.

Ash chuckled airily. "Yeah, I'm pretty excited. I just hope it all goes well." At that, he suddenly remembered what she had done for them yesterday, and even though it made no difference now, he still felt indebted to her. "Oh . . . and thanks for letting us go on the date, Mom. You know, even though I was . . . bad, and all."

Her eyes lifted compassionately as he said this. "Ash, what did I tell you? You're not bad!" Tears assembled once again. "Okay? Of course I'd let you go on the date. You know I would!"

As she bubbled with imminent sobs, Ash smiled sadly and got up to hug her again. Delia hated that she surrendered to this again, but it was hopeless. She was so devastated over her loss, but she loved him so much. The two feelings combined created a surge of sensitivity within her. 

Ash, concurrently, didn't know why his mother was so susceptible this morning. Her crying was starting to really trouble him, and with a small sense of suspicion, something told him that her throwing a fit the day before was not the only reason towards her fragile emotions. He didn't prod it, though; all she needed right now was a firm hug, and that's what he gave her, letting her mild cries gradually wear down.

The sudden promenade of feet down the stairs suspended their hug. They gently disjoined, and while Ash bent down rather cheerfully to greet the scampering Pikachu, Delia went to hastily wipe her eyes. Misty and Brock shambled tiredly into the kitchen, Misty bearing a half-asleep Togepi in her arms. Despite their eyes puffed from sleep, they looked content and, as Delia could always effortlessly notice, hungry.

"Morning," Misty chirped, spreading a smile to Ash before looking at Delia with a tinge of concern on her face. "Are you feeling better? I was worried."

It wasn't going to leave her alone, Delia fretfully realized. Nonetheless, she gave Misty the reassuring smile she wanted.

"Yes, I'm feeling better. Thanks, dear."

"That's good," Misty replied, then skipped over to the table to take her seat beside Ash. She looked friskily at him, and he returned the frivolous face, scrunching up his nose. 

"What's for breakfast?" Misty asked.

"Pancakes," Ash replied, running his hands up and down Pikachu's ears affably.

Misty instantly smiled. "Oooh, my favorite!"

"I know." Ash grinned proudly. "I chose it just for you."

Misty's smile grew gleefully as Brock playfully tried to gag himself. "Aww, Ash, you're so sweet!"

"Well . . . that, and I really wanted them, too."

Misty promptly narrowed her eyes, but it was all in good fun. "I should've known."

They laughed furtively, and Brock rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he disliked their cutesy display of affection, but it was enough to indirectly exclude him from their cavorting. Not that he minded entirely this morning; he was too sleepy and hungry to talk anyhow. He knew by after breakfast the question of what to do for the day would fall between the three of them, and he would be included sufficiently enough to wear him out. For now, his regard was set on Delia, watching her shift around the kitchen bleakly.

As Ash and Misty continued to laugh and ramble happily, he got up and walked carefully over to her, observing her intently. She unquestionably didn't seem right; he had seen her practically every morning of their stay, and not once did she look this disheveled. It wasn't completely her physical appearance that worried him, but the lack of life and content she usually held in her eyes. They were dull and glazed over, and distinguishably red from crying. Staring off ambiguously, she seemed captivated in a desolate lala land.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Mrs. K?" he asked quietly as he came beside her. That lifeless gaze of hers lifted from the frying pancakes. "No offense or anything, but . . . you really don't look that good."

"Oh, Brock," she replied dryly, forming a smile, "I'm okay. Just . . . got a little too much sleep, I guess."

Brock laughed shortly. "Yeah, that can do it to ya. I've been feeling that a lot here."

Delia patted his shoulder and went to flip the pancakes. The delicious smell wafted up Brock's nose, and trying to put Delia's disturbing look out of his mind, noisily licked his lips. On normal occasions, she would snicker at his childish hunger, as it was a regular thing he did when she was cooking. But this time he received nothing from her, not even a glance. Her languid stare remained down, and Brock frowned.

"You want me to finish here so you can sit down?" he offered politely.

"No, no, that's okay, honey," she said. "I'm fine."

"You sure? Really, I can do this. Let me. You should sit down or have some coffee or something."

Delia could tell he would persist, since her appearance wasn't totally bolstering her claims. She knew her pancakes would be lousy anyhow, seeing as though she wasn't even entirely sure she mixed the ingredients well enough. Her mind was just so disorientated she almost forgot what she was doing.

The fact that she had still not washed up yet returned briskly to her mind, and that decidedly settled it. Sighing, she handed Brock the spatula, who grinned upon accepting it. 

"Here," she said. Her voice dragged, concerning Brock all the more. "I'm gonna go take a shower, actually. Maybe it'll . . . wake me up a little." 

"Sure—yeah, go do that," Brock replied inaudibly. Slipping by him, she wrapped her robe close to her body and headed out of the room.

"Where ya going, Ma?" 

Frailly, Delia turned to see Ash giving her an inquisitive, yet still pleasantly appeased, look. The smile she gave him came freely. 

"I'm just gonna get washed real quick while Brock finishes the breakfast."

Her statement came out so monotonously that she expected him immediately to question her. Yet, he nodded, wisps of his red bangs falling over his face. 

"'Kay! Hurry back soon!"

His bright voice urged Delia to run and clasp him in her arms again, but she held back. As overwhelmed with grief as she was, she realized determinedly that she needed to be strong. The incident was not going to disappear, nor was the pain going to diminish any time soon, but for Ash's sake, for the sake of her beloved little boy, she was going to try to bear through it. 

However, her anguish inevitably overtook her flimsy resolve, and as she closed the bathroom door behind her and sank to the floor, a fit of pain-racked bawling took her anew.

"Awww, Misty, do you _really_ wanna go there?" Ash whined, feeling slightly panicked. His tone was high with apprehension to express this as he gazed pleadingly at Misty's overly enthusiastic beam. 

"Of course I want to go there!" she asserted, clasping her hands with dreamy delight. "It's just the most beautiful place!"

"I know," Ash replied nonchalantly. He was far from giving into this, though. "It's just that . . . well, I was really looking forward to eating at the steakhouse."

Misty rolled her eyes. "But we've been to the steakhouse _so _many times!" she complained lightly. "I keep seeing that Moonlight Villa place and I'm dying to go there! Would it hurt you to try _something _new?"

He groaned, shuddering from just perceiving the thought of eating at the exceedingly elegant (and not to mention exceedingly expensive-looking) restaurant Misty was speaking so fondly of. The one at the end of the docks by the bay, lit up year-round by glistening icicle lights suspended from the countless cupolas and roof peaks. The one that had a maitre d' greeting each formally dressed individual that braved to enter such an exclusive place. The one whose parking lot constantly harbored exquisite cars. As well as, of course, the one that established itself to be his mother's place's domineering rival.

And Misty wanted them to go _there?_

"Misty, it's not that I don't want to try anything new," Ash explained. "But don't you think that place's a little . . . too much?"

"Too much?" she gasped. "Ash, I think it's just perfect!"

It didn't look like she was close to giving in, either, making Ash slump in frustration. It was Friday evening, the night of their second date, and at this point a little too late to be deciding where their idyllic excursion would take them. They had not, inconveniently, discussed this beforehand; both automatically assumed their choice of destination would be uncontested. That was hardly the case now, and both knew that convincing the other was going to take quite a bit of effort.

Well, maybe more on Ash's part. Misty was confident that she was going to go to the restaurant that had caught her eyes so many a times, and being radiant of this quality, Ash trembled. Going to Moonlight Villa would mean one too many things: getting dressed up; ordering from a menu of dishes he never tasted; getting dressed up; spending about three-weeks allowance on the whole ordeal; and of course, aside from getting dressed up, having to make sure he didn't embarrass himself. Being in refined atmospheres wasn't exactly his strong point. Why couldn't they just go to the steakhouse, relax in the fun milieu and choose from a tasty variety of flame-grilled entrees? 

"Misty, get real," he said. "That place is way too expensive. Besides, how do you even know they'll let us in? We're just kids!"

"I know they'll let us in!" Misty replied positively. "C'mon, it looks so good! I'm sure they have delicious meals there! And it looks sooo romantic!"

"So? The steakhouse can be romantic, too! All they gotta do is sit us in that dark corner with all old-fashioned saloon lights!"

Misty looked appalled. "Ugh! Give me a break, Ash! That's right by the restrooms! That's not romantic!"

"Misty," Ash sighed wearily, "we'll have a good time at the steakhouse! Better than we would at that fancy place, anyhow. Wouldn't ya rather be eating a hamburger than worrying whether or not your fork's in the right place?"

"Ash, it's not about that!" she argued. "It's about choosing a really nice place to have a special second date! Don't you want that?"

As her voice lowered disappointingly, Ash thoughtfully ran a hand through his hair beneath his hat. Of course he wanted it to be special, but he didn't want to be going crazy at the same time. 

"Yes, I want it to be special," he answered softly, and for a moment, Misty's face brightened victoriously. "But . . . it can be perfectly special at the steakhouse."

At that, Misty's face puffed irately. "Ash Ketchum!" Her expression turned to one of desperation. "Please, _please_ can we go to Moonlight Villa?"

"Misty, it's too expensive!" 

That didn't strike her particularly well. "Well, I don't care! It's gorgeous, and I'm gonna eat there!" 

"Well, I'm gonna eat at the steakhouse and have fun!"

"Oh yeah!?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, would you two be quiet!?" Ash and Misty were instantly hushed as Delia's voice rang out from the kitchen. "If you two don't settle down and decide, you're going to my place." She then gave them a shrug. "I don't know why you just don't go there anyway."

"Oh please, Mom!" Ash snorted, turning to glance at his mother. "The only reason you want us to go to your place is so all your people can spy on us and tell you exactly what we did on the date!"

"No, _Ashton_, that's not the reason why!" his mother retorted, flashing him a crazy smile. "Though . . . now that you mention it, that's not a bad idea." 

Ash inwardly perked as he saw her smile; for some odd reason, they were rare from his mom the past week. 

Snickering, she continued earnestly, "No, the reason I want you to go is because I really think you'll have a nicer time there: you can have whatever you want . . . _for free_ . . ." She added this part in a whisper, cupping her hands to direct it towards Ash, who just rolled his eyes. ". . . They'll play any kind of music you want. And besides, I know you'll be safe there."

"Mom, we'll be perfectly safe at the steakhouse, too," Ash said.

"He means we'll be perfectly safe at Moonlight Villa," Misty put in quickly, drawing a growl from Ash.

"Misty, I'm serious! I don't want to go there!"

"Ash," Misty glowered, folding her arms. "Are you really gonna deny me a night at the restaurant I want more than anything to spend a night at with you?"

"And are you telling me that you don't like your own mother's restaurant?" Delia snuck in with a mumble.

Bombarded with the guilt-trips, Ash dumped his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do at this point. He didn't want to disappoint Misty, but he wasn't thrilled with putting himself in an uncomfortable situation as well. Calmly, he looked at her again, finding her still staring firmly at him, waiting for the decision that would most definitely satisfy her.

"You got your movie," he told her, "so it would only be fair to give me choice of the restaurant."

"Hey! It's not my fault I subject you to finer things! You just can't appreciate it."

"I would appreciate it if this one time we could go to the steakhouse."

"Well, we're not going to!" Misty replied rigidly, coming up to stare him in the eye. "Now shut your trap and go get dressed!" 

Ash snarled and met her deadly stare, and without a doubt it appeared as thought the two were just a snap away from killing each other.

"What are you bickering about _now?_" The voice of Brock suddenly sounded from the staircase, which he was descending as he gave the two a most wearied gaze. 

"Brock, there you are!" Misty rejoiced. "Will you please tell Ash that it would only seem logical that we go to Moonlight Villa—you know, that really, really beautiful, romantic place—instead of his dumb steakhouse for dinner?"

"And would you please explain to _me _why she considers that logical?" Ash rejoindered. 

Brock sighed as he unwillingly, yet again, became the immediate referee for their senseless squabble. He couldn't count the number of times he had done it, or the predictably high number of times he was sure to do it in the future. But he didn't have time to ponder that now; he had two determined, incensed kids waiting expectedly for his aid, and he knew there was no way that both could be appeased at the same time. That would be about as easy as bringing world peace with just a snap of his fingers.

"Guys, why do you ask me these things? I don't know where you should go."

"Where would _you_ like to go?" Misty asked, putting him on the spot.

"Well, uh . . ."

"See, Misty?" Ash barked, his tone snotty. "He would want to go to the steakhouse, but he's too afraid to say it."

Brock sweatdropped. "No, Ash! That's not it!"

"Ha!" Mist grinned. "So he wants to go to Moonlight Villa! There ya go!"

"W-wait, I didn't say that either!" Brock said hastily, panicking.

"See? Steakhouse! I knew it!"

"No way! He wants to say Moonlight Villa! It's so obvious!"

"Well, if he does, then why's he stuttering? He's just trying to find a good way of telling you that he likes the steakhouse better than your hotsy-totsy restaurant!"

"It's not hotsy-totsy! Where do even _come up_ with words like that!?"

"From my very extensive vocabulary, that's where!"

"Extensive!? It's amazing it extends past: 'Hi, my name is Ash!'"

Ash turned red in the face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're an idiot with no taste!" Misty spat.

"_Hey!_"

"GUYS!" Brock shouted above the fighting, coming between the two and pushing them apart. "Fighting doesn't solve anything!"

"Yeah, I couldn't've said it better myself!" The kids were shocked as Jay came in from the patio, shaking his head amazingly. "My God, I can hear you guys from outside. What is going on?"

"Finally, a second referee!" Brock sighed in relief.

"We can't decide on where to go for our second date," Misty explained. Her voice had become softer instantly. 

At that moment, Delia appeared from the kitchen. She had intentions of trying to stop the conflict herself, but now that Jay was there, she silently leaned against the wall, watching with her arms crossed. 

Jay approached them. "All right, but it's nothing to kill each other over! What can't you decide on?"

Ash smiled. If anyone would be on his side, it would be his dad. Here was someone who knew what he was talking about!

"Dad, I really wanna go to the steakhouse—"

"Moonlight Villa," Misty interjected with a snide smile.

"Argh, no I don't!" Ash shouted very loudly.

"Hey, hey! Quiet, loud mouth!" Jay laughed, clasping a hand over Ash's mouth. "What did I say? No more yelling."

Ash grumbled from beneath his dad's hand, and Jay released him. After taking a few breaths of air, he gave Jay a pained look.

"Dad, can you please tell Misty that it would be better to go to the steakhouse for dinner tonight? The other place is way too fancy."

Misty rolled her eyes while Jay just smiled. Placidly, he turned towards Misty.

"And where was it you would like to spend the evening again?"

Grinning, Misty proclaimed her answer with a whimsical sigh. "Moonlight Villa."

Jay suddenly looked shocked, and turned towards Ash with a shameful look on his face. "Are you telling me that you won't take this beautiful young lady to Moonlight Villa?"

"Huh?" Ash gasped as Misty's face lit up with elation. "Dad, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, Ash," Jay moaned, shoving him lightly. "You can always go to the steakhouse." He gestured towards the glowing Misty. "Tonight's your second date. Take her somewhere nice tonight—take her to Moonlight." He suddenly smiled complacently. "Hey, that rhymed! That could be a good slogan for the place!"

Misty and Brock laughed, but Ash was hardly amused.

"Are you crazy?" he gulped, immediately taken hold of by an excited Misty. She grasped onto his arm and jumped up and down, giggling half-happily, half-tauntingly. 

"See Ash? Even your dad wants us to go!"

Ash was trapped in a world of daunting shock. "Daaaad!" he whined. "Why'd you go and do that for?" He was paying no heed to the fact that Misty was right beside him.

"What are you talking about?" Jay shrugged, not at all concerned that he had completely surprised, disappointed, and, of course, slightly embarrassed his son. "Come on, boy, you can get dressed up for one day in your life! Moonlight's a great place to eat—they have fabulous food there."

Ash scoffed, then turned to his mother. "Mom, what do you think?"

Closing her eyes indifferently, Delia shrugged. "I told you what I thought," she said dully.

Ash frowned from her apathy. That wasn't exactly the attitude he was expecting from her at this point; it sounded like she didn't give a damn one way or another. She was so excited about their first date, after she had gotten past her hesitance. What was wrong with her now . . . ?

She wasn't going to be any help. He returned to give Jay another pout, wanting to take one more desperate stab at getting his wish.

"Dad—" he started. 

"Hey!" Jay interrupted, bringing a finger to his lips and giving him a harmlessly stern glare to enforce him to listen. "It's better to do something different on a date. It is. And you—" He knocked Ash's hat down over his face with a smirk. "—will love eating there. I know it."

Ash opened his mouth, but said nothing. He couldn't say anything. His dad's opinion rendered him speechless, and the next thing he knew, he was in his room, pulling out one of the two good pairs of pants he owned and a buttoned-down green shirt. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn them, and wasn't completely surprised when they turned out to be a tad on the tight side. They would do for the night, though. They were probably going to last longer than he would.

As the hour wore on, Ash's thoughts of Moonlight Villa, though unchangeably apprehensive, were lightening. Despite the fact that he wasn't fond of dressing up, it always brought him a distinct feeling, one that he didn't entirely detest. It was unique, meaning he was about to do something he didn't normally do. He didn't like dressing up, but he did like special occasions. Tonight was certainly no exception, and he could feel it coming off of Misty like heat. Seeing her frivolous smile every time they passed in the hall or met momentarily in his room made Ash receive a bolt of thrill. She was happy, and the satisfaction of that was beginning to make his begrudging resignation lift.

Just as he had done the night of their first date, Ash made sure he looked extra presentable. This was even more so due to his courtly attire. His red hair had since considerably washed out; only a smidgen of it could be seen in the sunlight every now and then. Everyone in the house was relieved of this, including himself. He really wasn't looking forward to taking Misty out with the ridiculous appearance. Perhaps there were some things looking up for him in this otherwise nerve-wracking affair.

He said good-bye to his mother, and it was completely apparent now that she no enthusiasm to fuss over how he looked or what time they were to be picked up. She gave him a tender kiss on the forehead, squeezed him tight, but barely uttered a word. Ash left with a puzzled look on his face, rather than the farewell, flighty smile he would have liked. Not much time passed, however, for the anxiety over the date to swiftly take over his mind instead. 

The car ride was silent again, and this time it was certain their appearances were enhancing it. Ash wanted more than anything to look at Misty in her new outfit, but was too afraid that she would catch him looking at her. Her pretty flower-patterned skirt and light-blue top were a whole new look on her, and Ash liked it. But most of the trip he spent nervously glancing out the window instead, fiddling with his tie. 

When picturesque Moonlight Villa loomed in the distance, looking bigger and more intimidating than ever, Ash gulped, praying in his mind the night would go smoothly. The parking lot was unsurprisingly packed, and for a second, he wondered if perhaps there wouldn't be a seat for them, that it would have done them some good to make a reservation. As he and Misty approached the front door, brushing alongside each other in almost an attempt to seek security, he actually hoped this would be the case. He couldn't do this . . . heck, he couldn't even handle the movies! Already, he felt hopelessly neurotic. 

"Isn't it pretty?" Misty marveled, breaking Ash from his troubled reverie. 

"Uh, yeah. It is," he whispered back. It wasn't a lie. They reached the door and Ash hastily went to hold it for Misty, guiding her in with a shaky smile. This was it. There was no turning back now.

__

Here we go . . . 

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

I thought that since it's Valentine's Day next week, I'd allow Ash and Misty to go on their second date. ^^

I've hit a rough semester at school, and because of it, my writing time has become slim. And trust me, I love doing this, so when I can't find time to write, it's true! ^_^ I will continue working on this as consistently as I can, but I don't think I can keep up with weekly posting. I have three more chapters already prewritten, but after that, I'll upload when I have completed a chapter. This way I can take my time; rushing to beat deadlines is something I do not_ like. :P And rushing does not produce good writing. So don't worry if I don't show up for a week or two; I'll be back with a new chapter as soon as possible. _

Thank you for reading! ^_^


	11. The Second Date

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 11

The Second Date

It was serenely dim on the inside, lit solely by low, gloomy lamps. The place smelled of a pleasant, undistinguishable fragrance. It was formal but comfortable, an impression Ash gained from the soft feel of the rich scarlet carpet beneath his feet. Soft classical music filled the air. It _was_ a nice place, he effortlessly deemed. With all his might, he vowed to focus on ways to enjoy it, rather than have it be the very early death of him. He needed confident thoughts like this—it was the only thing that would fortify his unsteady prediction of the night to come.

The maitre d's head was down as they came near, and Ash and Misty stood before him for a good couple of seconds before he noticed them. It was enough time for Misty to give Ash a light jab, flashing her teeth in an electrified smile. Ash smiled back, his lips slightly wobbling. There she went with her unwavering faith again. Why, oh why couldn't _he_ be the same way? Why did everything have to be such an unnecessary hassle for him? Was it ever going to be possible for him to enjoy one of these dates without the unrelenting surge of nervousness attacking the stability of his limbs and mind?

Blinking a few times, he cleared his throat, eager to get the host's attention and be seated. Standing there in the midst of the whole restaurant made him shiver. The action was enough to induce the host to finally look down upon them, his eyebrows lifting interestedly. With a pleasant grin, he rested his elbows on the table. 

"Good evening. And what can I do for you kids tonight?"

__

He's not going to let us in, Ash immediately lamented, picking up the man's tone as somewhat satirical. _I bet he's gonna burst out laughing._

"Um . . . we'd like a table for two, please," he replied, his voice low and innocent. _Here it comes . . . God, this is embarrassing! _

Heightening his dread, the host stared at them momentarily, not uttering a word. It was just like the movie theater ordeal all over again. There was nothing worse than being turned away, and although Ash was still freaked over the evening to come, it was absolutely the last thing he wanted.

To his amazement, however, the maitre d' quit his staring session and smiled humbly, glancing at his table list.

"Well, you and the beautiful young lady are in luck," he said. "It's nearly a full house tonight, but we do have one table left."

They instantly smiled, and Ash was allowed to breathe in relief.

"Follow me please," he said invitingly, gesturing to the dining room. "And, um . . . I assume you two will want regular menus, am I correct in saying so?"

Their bashful grins were enough of an answer for him, and grabbing two large menus, he led them through the sea of full tables to a lonely, vacated one by the window. The host held Misty's seat for her while Ash slid into his, pulling his chair in and sitting up straight. Distributing the menus to them individually, the host bowed, wished them a fine evening, and took his leave.

Ash sighed after they sat for a minute in silence, occupied by their menus. "Well, looks like I'm two-for-two now."

Looking up, Misty smiled confusingly. "What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you see the look on that guy's face? He seriously thought we were joking."

"Aww, c'mon, Ash," she slouched. "He was very nice."

"It looked like he was ready to laugh at me."

"He was not!" Misty chuckled. "And even if he was, he let us in. Stop worrying about it—I think you should be proud that you're getting to do all this stuff! Not all kids our age get to go to fancy restaurants all by themselves like we are."

Ash looked back down at his menu. "Yeah, guess you're right." It wasn't that bad, actually; at least the maitre d' hadn't questioned his age like that dumb ticket-taker had. But it was still enough to get the butterflies in his stomach aroused again.

"So, what are you gonna get?" he asked, trying to put the uncomfortable stuff aside and focus on delighting in the night with Misty. 

"Oooh, I don't know," Misty smiled, her eyes roaming the many choices.

"You can order whatever you want," Ash reminded, feeling great that he could say this to her. He made sure that he had enough money for the evening this time—more than enough. He wanted Misty to get what she wanted, regardless of the price. If he had to eat bread and water while she feasted upon filet mignon, he would do it. 

"Well . . . what are you gonna get?" she responded eagerly. 

Ash peered down at the menu and tried to make sense of the peculiar names of dishes. He knew he wanted a steak of some sort, and got even more flustered when he discovered there were about ten different kinds of that alone. 

"I'm gonna get one of these steaks," he answered as he studied them. 

"Oh, are you gonna pretend you're at your steakhouse all night?" Misty accused playfully.

"Hey, I like steaks!" Ash retorted. Getting caught up with the moment, he laughed, but just a little too loudly as he suddenly drew eyes.

"Ash! Shhh!" Misty scolded, trying to stifle her own laugh. "You have to be quiet in here!"

"Oh, yeah. Hehe, right," Ash said, scratching the back of his head. His heart thumped with embarrassment as his attention returned to the menu.

Before they had a chance to speak again, the waitress came by, donning a cheery smile. Ash and Misty both ordered sodas, and went on to request grilled steak and stuffed flounder respectively. 

"I didn't know you liked flounder," Ash said as the waitress took their menus and went to fetch their drinks.

"Oh yeah, I love it," Misty replied. "I was even thinking of asking your mom if we could have it for the reception. That would be so delicious."

"So no more chicken cordon bleu?" Ash smirked.

"I don't know, maybe. Just another choice I have."

Ash nodded. The waitress returned a moment later, setting their drinks down and placing a steaming basket of warm bread before them. Ash's mouth watered at the sight of it. 

"Well, if you get Mom to think about the reception, that'd be good," he continued the conversation, taking a sip of his soda. "She hasn't been doing much of it lately. I don't know why she's suddenly lost interest in it."

Misty gave him a comprehending frown as he mentioned it. "Yeah, I know," she said. "You're mom's been acting . . . kinda weird lately, hasn't she?"

"Yeah . . . she has," he answered, thinking worriedly about his mother. Ever since the morning she had embraced him with such strong love, it was evident something was troubling her. Although she still retained that affection towards him, she had fallen into a perplexing daze. An ambiguous air hung about her. She'd lost all her pep and energy, replacing it with what seemed to be saddened withdrawal, and it had concerned Ash incessantly.

He hadn't questioned her about it. Every once in a while he became slightly depressed over something small and insignificant, and Ash assumed that was all that was bothering his subdued mom. However, as the days of her despondency led from one to the other, he was starting to get uneasy. Especially since her smiles and laughs were so dry and stale, so lacking the happiness needed to support them. His mind became heavy with this preoccupation, and he sighed.

"I just don't get why she's acting so depressed lately," he said.

"Hmm," Misty shrugged, not knowing herself what had gotten into Delia. Getting the date back from her was the last time the two had talked capriciously, shared a fun moment. "I don't get it either. I mean, she's barely talked or laughed or anything like that. Haven't you asked her about it?"

Ash shook his head. "No, I haven't . . . Have you?"

"I'd think you'd ask her before I would. What about your dad?"

"Beats me. Maybe, though."

Ash momentarily forgot about it as he witnessed Misty unfold her napkin and place it gently in her lap. She then went to delicately grab a piece of the highly appetizing bread and some packets of butter by her place. Starving, Ash immediately wanted his own piece, but took into consideration the method by which she was doing it. He wasn't that great at table manners—he knew the basics, of course, but when it came to the fancy stuff, he was lost.

Right away, he grabbed for his napkin, intending to set it upon his lap as Misty had done. Unfortunately, he completely forgot about the silverware that was wrapped within it, which, as he snatched the napkin rather quickly, proceeded to fling to the floor—and ricochet under the table beside them.

"Oops!" Ash cringed.

"Ash!" Misty gasped, an incredulous laugh escaping her lips. "Oh my gosh!"

The startled couple at the table turned to give him a weird look as Ash smiled embarrassingly at them. 

"Excuse me," he mumbled guiltily as he crawled out of his seat. His face burned red as he got on his hands and knees and approached their table, reaching out to claim his silverware. They didn't say a word, just stared as he slid back. Misty met him with a zany grin.

"I can't believe you did that!" she exclaimed.

__

Yeah, I can . . . Ash thought. He placed the silverware before him and took a deep, shaky breath. He knew something like that was going to happen. It was inevitable. Before they had left that evening, Ash pondered what screw-ups he'd perform during the dinner, and was certain he was not going to make it through flawlessly. Well, he was right—in the first ten minutes.

"That was so dumb," he reproached himself. 

Misty laughed. "No it wasn't, it was funny! Ask for new silverware when the waitress comes back."

Ash nodded, trying to grasp hold of himself and return back to the dinner. He still wanted that bread, and when he looked to see where his napkin had gone, he not surprisingly found it on the floor as well. So much for that. Fed up, he just reached over and took a piece of bread, spread the butter on generously, and took a huge, scrumptious bite out of it. It was without a doubt delicious bread.

"Mmm!" Ash moaned happily. The delectable taste washed his mind of his clumsiness.

"Yeah, isn't it good?" Misty smiled, taking another bite of hers. "Told you this place was going to be delicious."

"You were right!" Ash replied, his mouth full. He finished his piece in two bites and went for another.

"Don't get too filled up on it," Misty advised with a sly smile.

"I won't," Ash promised, though it wasn't very convincing as he shoved another piece into his mouth.

"So, um . . ." Misty said as Ash continued to eat, "what do you think is bothering your mom?"

Ash swallowed, and his fretful face returned. "I don't know," he answered. "It's worrying me. I mean, I haven't seen her this upset since . . ." He trailed off and glanced down.

"Since they were getting the divorce?" Misty knowingly filled in. Ash nodded. "Well, that's obviously _not _the case now."

"Oh, I know. But still . . . I don't know what it is, and that's really bugging me. I don't know if she's sad, or sick, or something like that . . ."

Misty shrugged. "Ask her when we get home tonight," she told him. "Maybe whatever it is that's making her so down will get better if she talks about it."

"I hope so," Ash said, his voice forlorn. Misty picked this up, and fearing that he was getting distressed about it, attempted to lighten the mood.

"Hey, you never know," she grinned. "She may just be upset that her son's going on all these big, fancy dates and growing up so fast."

The smile she wanted from Ash modestly lifted his face. "Yeah, maybe," he replied, though he hardly believed that's what it was. In any case, he was going to question her about it; whatever it was that was worrying her, it was getting serious now. Too serious for Ash to just wait around for to fade. 

"I can't wait for our dinners to come," Misty said, breaking him from his thoughts. He smiled as she said this; he didn't want to be absorbed with the distant disposition of his mother's. He had too many worries as it was. The concept of food alone was making his spirits lift ardently. 

"I don't think they will for a while," Ash replied honestly, however. His eyes swept around the room and took in the sight of the packed tables. "With the amount of people they have here tonight, we'll be lucky if we're eating by ten."

"I don't think we'll be waiting that long!" Misty laughed. "I _hope_ not!"

__

Yeah, me too, Ash prayed. Though conversing with Misty was making things a little easier, the less time spent in this restaurant was less time his fate could use to humiliate him.

He tried to maintain his nerves as they waited for their suppers, but it was difficult. Regarding the surrounding older couples and mindful of how out of place he felt among them, keeping his actions in check was a bit exasperating. He made sure he moved things about the table cautiously, fearing they would fly off as they did before. Ash didn't feel like impaling some poor person with his knife before the night was over. He spoke softly, and tried hard not to laugh, almost as if his voice was going to be another strike against him. He knew he was being a little ridiculous, but it was better to be safe them sorry, especially considering where he was and who he was with.

Thankfully, the dinners didn't take very long. Ash and Misty had only been sitting for fifteen minutes before their succulent dishes were placed before them. Their bread had been finished, but by eating it moderately and sharing it equally, they had not filled their stomachs. Ash knew he had enough room for his dinner no matter what, but he also didn't want to look like a ravenous pig in front of Misty.

"Oh, wow! Look at it, Ash!" Misty squealed, gazing fondly at her plate. Ash looked down at his, noticing that both were the same aside from their main course. Both had a large, buttery, and tantalizing mound of mashed potatoes to one side, a dash of parsley sprinkled atop it, and a neat pile of Le Sur baby peas to another. It looked fancy, so very fancy. He could have sworn that he'd never seen such an attractive looking plate of food in his life. Almost like it was too special to be touched. 

Ash's stomach didn't agree with this. It looked and smelled so delicious, and of course a twenty-two dollar plate of food was obviously not meant to be stared upon. 

"I can't wait to try to my flounder," Misty said, still giddy. She lifted her eyes to Ash, but instead of finding him immediately demolishing his food like there was no tomorrow, he was gazing at it almost timidly, not moving a muscle. She shot him a silly grin.

"What's the matter?" she laughed. "Are you gonna eat it, or are you having a staring contest with it?"

Ash's head shot up. "What?" he asked, not paying attention. He swiftly cleared his mind. "Oh, no. No." He giggled. "It's just . . . well . . ."

"You don't like it?"

Ash smiled and shook his head. "No, no! It looks great! I just . . . can't decide on what to try first."

"Well, try the steak," Misty persuaded, gesturing to it with a nod of her head. "Tell me how it is. It looks so delicious."

"Oh . . . Okay." 

Ash wiggled his fingers a bit before carefully grasping his new clean fork and knife. Now, how was he to do this? He wanted to take pleasure in his meal, but he also wanted to make sure he was doing so properly. He positioned the fork in his fingers, wondering if he was holding it correctly. Knowing Misty would undoubtedly know the appropriate way to do it, he observed her quickly but attentively. She didn't notice, as she was already focused on cutting her flounder. His eyes darting from her hands to his, he arranged the silverware the exact way. His hands trembled unstoppably.

__

Stop trembling, he told himself reassuringly. _Relax, this isn't bad. Just eat your dinner like you normally do, like at home . . . _

Yeah, right—eat like that and you'll be kicked out in a second!

He was _really_ hungry, through. Looking at the moist steak and restraining himself from eating it was simply inflicting more torture upon himself. Taking a deep breath, he moved his plate so that the steak was in front of him, and commenced to cut it. He couldn't wait any longer.

The meat was a lot thicker than he thought. Savory juice pooled in his plate, and yet his knife couldn't seem to get through it. 

__

Great, even cutting the meat has to be a problem! he groaned to himself. Determinedly, Ash grasped his knife hard and sawed away, eager to get through it and deliver it to his impatient taste buds. Strangely, it got harder, but Ash didn't know whether the meat really was tough or he was just imposing this problem on himself. Either way, he was not succeeding, and the more shaky his hands got, and the more anxious his body and mind became, the more the cutting violently intensified.

His knife finally did get through the meat . . . but not the way he would have liked. It broke through from Ash's increased aggression and sailed across his plate awkwardly, colliding into the pile of peas and sending an assault of them flying towards Misty's plate. 

"Ash!" Misty cried, startled. Her voice was still, to Ash's astonishment, respectfully low. "What the heck?"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" Ash hastily exclaimed, his voice panicky.

Misty, however, was smiling. "Look!" she admonished frivolously, pointing at her plate. "You got peas in my mashed potatoes!"

Ash was shaking as he noticed the mess. It wasn't a large one, obviously, but this was no good on his already edgy nerves.

"I'll clean it up, I'll get them out!" he sputtered. That was a mistake, though—a large one. As he reached hastily across the table to pick the peas from her potatoes, his arm knocked into his half-full glass of soda, tipping it over in the direction of Misty.

She shrieked, jumping from her seat as the soda splashed into her plate, barely missing her. Ash went to scream, but not a sound came from his mouth. His face paling promptly, he rapidly grabbed for his drink and stood it erect before the rest of it could go over. The damage was already done though: the tablecloth was soaked and stained brown, and Misty's meal was swimming in a shallow pool of Coke.

"Oh my God, Ash!" she choked, in disbelief of what had just occurred. Her voice was by no means quiet now. "Look what you _did!_"

Ash was out of his seat in a second, looking at the disaster with a flash of horror in his eyes. "Oh, shit!" he cried, biting back the condemned word a little too late. His hands clasped over his mouth as he dreadfully realized just how loud he uttered that. Around him, people's heads turned to the source of the racket, but Ash didn't even need to look around to know this was happening.

"Ash!" Misty yelled again, shocked at his language but not taken away by what had just occurred. She quickly grabbed at her plate and tried to drain it of the soda. The table was already soaked, but she threw her napkin on it anyway, which Ash, despite his disorientation, did as well. The napkins were instantly sopping wet, but the mess was far from being cleaned up.

"I can't believe you did that!" Misty said, her voice high-pitched with frenzied distress. "How could you be so clumsy!?"

"I don't know, I don't know!" Ash whined, sounding even worse than her. "Oh my God, I'm so dumb, I'm so stupid . . ."

"Whatever! Here, help me!"

Together, they lifted the tablecloth and folded it over so that it would cover the puddle and perhaps soak it up more. It worked, and by this time the waitress had come over to assist them. 

"I'm sorry, it was an accident," Ash apologized immediately to her, but the waitress just gave him a reassuring smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, it's okay," she comforted him sweetly. "No problem. Was it the glass? Did it slip in your hands? Those glasses can be very slippery, I know."

Ash didn't think twice about lying this time. "Y-yeah. It—it just slipped from my hand."

He expected the shocked glare that Misty sent his way, but as their eyes blazed into each other's, Misty decided it was for the best, too. The situation was already embarrassing enough, and informing the staff of the blundering kid they had on their hands was going to make matters worse. Instead, they silently watched as the waitress removed the wet tablecloth and set their plates back down, Ash's untouched (except for his strewn peas) and Misty's beyond hope.

"I'll get you a new plate," the waitress promised, giving Misty a rueful smile. "I'm sorry about the glass."

Misty was silent for a moment, but then nodded. "Oh. Th-thank you. I appreciate it."

The waitress nodded, and took her plate. "I'll have a new one for you in just a few moments, okay? I'm gonna get a new tablecloth."

Misty smiled weakly. "Okay. Thanks."

"Thank you," Ash said softly as she passed.

The restaurant was silent, and Ash and Misty's faces flushed with humiliation from the stares directed their way. Ash's heart pounded wildly, and for a moment, he felt as though he was going to pass out. He and Misty took their seats modestly, speechless. Ash knew it wasn't going to last that way, though—he was in for it. That was the clincher; the night was ruined. There was no way he could possibly rectify what he had just done. His insecure nightmare was coming true.

__

I'm the stupidest person alive, he thought, dumping his face into his hands. Tears burned at his eyes. He was so afraid to look at Misty, and the silence coming from her was making it harder on him. _She's not going to talk to me for the rest of the night._

The tears were getting tougher to fight, and still concealing his face, Ash wiped them away. What was going to happen now? Were they going to eat and just leave? Were they even going to stay any longer? Ash sure felt like leaving. Being subjected to the embarrassment of the scene he had just caused and the discomfort of having an angry and ashamed Misty across from him combined to send an awful chill of torment through his body.

But Misty knew he was upset. She could vaguely hear his quiet sniffling, and at the moment, anger was the last thing she felt towards him. Of course she was mortified over what happened, and from the cold stares of the adults around them, wondering what kids their age were actually doing there. But she couldn't be mad; seeing him there looking so miserable wouldn't allow her. He was so nervous, so messed up. She knew how fidgety he was, but she also knew how much he wanted to make this special . . . he was Ash after all. How could he not?

"Hey," she said softly. Surprised, Ash lifted his head and found her smiling at him. "Can I try a piece of your steak?"

For a second, Ash didn't utter a sound. She was speaking to him? She was smiling? Something wasn't right here . . . 

His motionless pause made her smile grow. "Hello? Did you hear what I said? Come on, I'm hungry!" she laughed.

"Huh?" Ash blinked. "Oh—yeah! Yeah, I heard what you said. I just . . . uh, well . . ."

He was too beyond shock to register her unexpectedly amiable attitude in his brain. The least he'd expected from her was a perpetual scowl for the rest of evening while they ate in heated silence. Swallowing back his stuttering words, he grabbed his fork, pierced the dislodged piece of meat that had created the whole scene, and handed it to Misty.

She didn't accept the fork, however. Ash's eyes widened as she grinned and leaned forward, snatching the meat off with her teeth in one bite.

"Mmmm," she said, nodding agreeably. "Real good. Try some!"

Ash was staring again, but realizing he was doing it, stopped himself. He looked down at his meat and prepared to comply, but something was odd. Curiously, and a bit fearfully, he glanced back at her.

"Why are you so happy?" he asked, wondering why he was about to ruin something that was better left unquestioned. He needed to know, though. 

"What?"

"Why are you happy?" he repeated, mumbling. "After all that . . . aren't you upset?"

She was, but how could she say that to him? It was an accident, after all, and yes, Ash was unfortunately accident-prone. How could she hold against him what was only foreseen? Just because they were on a date at the ritziest restaurant in town didn't mean that was going to vanish. Putting on a solacing, gentle smile, Misty shrugged.

"It's okay. It was just an accident."

"You mean . . . you mean you don't hate me right now for that?"

"Well, are you sorry?" she grinned.

"Of course I am!" Ash hastily replied. "O-of course I'm sorry! I didn't mean to spill the drink, I was only trying to get the peas out of your—"

"I know, I know!" Misty interrupted, holding up her hand restrainingly. "I know, and that's why I'm not mad. I can see how nervous you are, Ash. Why is that?"

"Why is that?" Ash echoed. He had to explain this? And above all, Misty knew? There went all his attempts at acting cool and collected. He thought the only person he wasn't fooling was himself. 

"I . . . I don't know," he answered finally, looking down. He began to absentmindedly swirl his potatoes with his fork. "It's because . . . well . . ."

"I knew you were nervous at the movie theater, too," Misty said, drawing his stunned attention.

"You did?"

"Sure I did," she replied. She sighed, smiling warmly. "Ash, you don't have to be nervous on these dates. It's no different then when we hang out regular. Just think of it that way."

"But I can't think that way, Misty," said Ash candidly. 

"Why not? It would make it easier."

"Because!" Ash said, "I can't picture it as just being normal, because it's not normal. Normal would be you, me, and Brock, and—and our Pokémon! _That_ would be normal! But this . . . this is a date! It's you and me on a _date_, and . . . and I . . . I have to make this special for you! I just want them to be perfect, I _have_ to make them perfect—"

"But they are perfect!" she asserted, touched at how emotional these outings were making him. She knew he was nervous, but she had no idea of the extent. As he sat before her now, his blush still failing to fade from the calamity, she was immensely amazed at the amount of unnecessary stress he was putting into this.

"No they're not," Ash contradicted sadly. He hung his head. "All I do is mess them up."

"Ash, you do not! You have no idea how much I love these dates!" she continued, wanting to let him know just how much she adored the fact that she was out with him. "I mean, this is only the second one, and yeah, it's been a mess so far, but it's been fun, too! Just the fact that you agreed to take me here, and you got dressed up and you spoke to the people so politely, and that you were so upset over doing this just now, and just—just that you're willing to go through this fancy stuff for me!"

Ash smiled weakly and shrugged, her words beginning to work their magic.

"And the movies! Ash, the movies was great! Nothing bad happened there, and you know it. I had such a great time, just like I'm having here now."

He stole a glimpse at her modestly. "You are?"

"Of course!" Misty replied, her smile broadening. "I love that you're doing all this with me. I'm so happy you took me here."

"Even though I whined about it before?"

Misty rolled her eyes. "I knew you were going to whine about it. But I also know that deep down you wanted to try this, too."

"Well . . . not really," Ash replied truthfully. "But . . . I did want to take you here so that you'd be happy. 'Cause . . . I like to make you happy."

Misty gave him a pleasant face at that, but said nothing. They just stared at each other for a few moments, enough time for the waitress to return with a new tablecloth and dish for Misty. Silently, they rose and assisted the waitress with resetting the table, which she insisted they didn't have to do. Ash felt this was the least he could do, however, and was sure to apologize one last time before she left them.

Ash and Misty took their time in finishing their delicious meals. Not many words passed between them, but both were utterly content with eating and enjoying each other's presence in the new atmosphere. Ash finished his meal completely—as well as sharing a few more pieces of his steak with Misty, who wished she'd ordered the same—and helped Misty finish hers. They were having a grand time, and finally, for the first time that night, Ash was beginning to relax. Except for the soda catastrophe, everything had gone perfectly.

"I'm glad we went here tonight," he told her as he left a few dollars on the table as a tip. 

"You are?" she smiled, rising and waiting for him to follow. He jumped over and held her hand, and together, they started towards the exit.

"Yeah," he replied, shrugging. "It was really nice, and the food was good, and it was something . . . different."

Misty beamed. "See? I knew you'd like it."

Ash looked down. "I'm just sorry that I ruined it by spilling my soda."

"Aw, Ash," Misty sighed for about the hundredth time that night. She was used to Ash lamenting over his accident, but was sick of hearing him beat himself up over it. "What did I say? You didn't ruin it. In fact, I don't know what this evening would've been like without you doing that."

"Whaddah ya mean?" Ash asked, bafflement spelt out across his face.

Misty flashed him one of her amazing smiles and squeezed his arm tight. "Because that was you being you. And I like that better than you trying so hard to make things perfect. I just want you to be yourself, and only act that way."

She had a point there, one that Ash couldn't completely say he wanted to disagree with. He wanted more than anything to be himself and relax, and towards the end of the dinner, he nearly had achieved that. The soda incident had left him high strung, but nevertheless, the good food and the soft chit-chat with Misty was helping to soothe it away.

"Well, I'm flattered you associate my personality with spilling soda . . ." he joked.

Misty bubbled with laughter. "Oh, Ash, you know what I mean!"

Ash laughed too, and this time he didn't care how loud he was. If anything, he wanted all those people there to know how happy he was, how privileged he felt to spend an evening at Moonlight Villa with his girlfriend. As they exited the dining room and headed towards the front door, he suddenly felt better than he had in days.

Then he knocked into the plant.

It was just so hidden behind the corner, and Ash was sadly too close and too wrapped up with hilarity that he didn't notice himself waltzing right into it. He yelped abruptly as he lost his balance, and in the next second he was tumbling into the unfortunate fern, sending it crashing to the ground, as well as the moist pot of dirt it had been abiding in.

Misty's mouth hung wide open in shock as Ash groaned on the floor, his clothes and hands (in addition to that scarlet carpet) covered in soil. The plant was crushed from his weight, looking like it had been flattened by a steamroller. At least the pot hadn't been broken. Finding his feet, Ash instantly turned to see the maitre d' glaring at him, a disgruntled look etched into his stiff, long face. 

"Hehe," Ash squeaked, smiling innocently. His face reddened. "Um . . . sorry."

He didn't wait for the man's reply; he quickly grabbed Misty's hand and the two were out of there in a flash. Ash couldn't describe the feeling of relief that swept through him as they were out in the fresh air again, away from the confines of the restaurant that obviously had it out for him.

He looked at Misty, but all he got from her was an amicable shake of her head. The feeling of stupidity he held of himself was incomparable.

"Ash," she sighed. "Just because I told you I like you being you doesn't mean you can go around and destroy everything in sight."

Though her tone was humorous, Ash felt it anything but funny. "I'm sorry," he said, massaging his wrists gently. They hurt from the impact of landing on them when he tripped. He shook his head disappointingly. "They'll probably never let us in there again."

"Oh, stop it, don't be silly!" Misty chuckled. "Yes they will."

"They're probably taking our pictures right now as we speak with their security cameras, and posting them up inside so no one'll ever let us in again."

"Ash!"

"Well, maybe they'll let _you _in, but not me. Definitely not me," Ash mumbled, hanging his head. 

"Because you knocked their plant over?" Misty asked incredulously, her voice still high with amusement.

"Misty, I did more than that tonight!" Ash practically grumbled. He shrugged impassively, turning away. "I . . . I know you liked this date, even though I screwed it up and probably made it so we can never go here again. I just . . . I don't understand _why_ you liked it . . ."

"Ash . . ." Misty said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He moved away before she had the chance.

"If I was you, I'd never go out on a date with me again. I'm just an embarrassment, that's all I am."

"You're not an embarrassment," she said, her voice tottering with sympathy. Ash ignored her. He walked a few feet more, his head hanging disgracefully, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Misty's eyes glistened clemently. 

When he sighed heavily and somberly, that was all she could deal with. Overcome with his senseless dejection, she hustled over to him, her sandals making furious, sharp clicks on the pavement. Ash was completely caught off guard as she grabbed hold of his arm, spun him around, and pressed her lips forcefully into his.

Ash's eyes were wide, and it took him a good couple of seconds before settling into the spontaneous kiss. But even after that, he was blown away. Out of all the kisses they had shared up to this point, which wasn't a considerably large amount, this was the most intense, the most (dare he think?) passionate. Misty gripped hard onto his arms, nearly cutting off his circulation with her excessive motive. Ash stood straight, frozen in shock, but gradually loosened, lifting his hands almost hesitantly to place them on her arms. 

They lasted that way for well over a minute, standing right in the middle of the front walk leading to the door of Moonlight Villa, blocking the path of any unsuspecting person who might stroll by. No one did, thankfully, but even if they had, Ash and Misty probably wouldn't have noticed. No one most likely would have believed the sight, either. Their mouths never opened, their lips never parted, and they barely moved during the ordeal. And yet, as amateurish as they might have appeared, it meant nothing to what they were feeling.

It showed itself in their glowing faces as they finally separated. Ash gazed into Misty's face, his expression a mix between surprise and awe. Misty was breathing soundly, catching her breath from her beating heart, but she managed a smile. It spread across her face, radiant of her excitement and shock, too.

"Ash," she said. "Please don't talk that way. All right? I don't want you to think for one moment that this date was a failure. Because it wasn't. It was anything but that. So don't you dare say it again, okay?"

Ash was at a loss for words. He stood there for a moment motionless, her ardent proclamation repeating again and again in his mind. It sounded so earnest, but so desperate at the same time. He realized quickly that it was no nonsense, no cover-up. She really was upset with his attitude. And she really did love the date, also. How could that be? Ash wasn't sure, but as the warmth on his lips from the kiss was slowly beginning to fade, he didn't care for an explanation. Slowly, a genuine, meek smile emerged on his face. 

"Okay," he finally promised. "I won't." 

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	12. No Girls Allowed

**Blue Heaven**

_By Spruceton Spook_

Part 12

No Girls Allowed

"I don't get it," Ash wondered as he propped his feet up on the coffee table. "If they really want him to give Iowa a try, why're they telling him how stubborn and rude they are?"

Misty shrugged. "Well, the whole town _did_ come to greet him in song," she replied matter-of-factly. "I mean, what more could you want?"

"Hmmm," Brock mumbled, a speculating look skewing his face. "How come no towns ever greet _us _in song?"

"The day a town greets us in song," Ash declared humorously, "is the day I'll officially turn in my trainer's license."

Misty snickered. "Sure you would."

Ash smiled, but his perplexed face returned. "Seriously, though, it doesn't make sense!" he said, gesturing towards the television outrageously. "_Why_ are they doing that?"

"Oh, quiet and watch the movie, would you? I can't hear the song!" Misty yelled, getting up from her slacked position to toss a pillow in Ash's direction. It strayed off course, however, and wound up smacking Jay squarely in the side of the head.

"Oops!" she cried, covering her silly grin. Jay, who happened to be sitting between the two on the couch, gave her a facetious glare.

"Oh, you think that's funny, huh?" he said, grabbing the pillow and beginning to playfully whack her with it.

"No, no, I don't! Ahh! Help!" She broke into pleading giggles, holding up her hands to ward him off as he, as well as Ash and Brock, laughed heartily.

It was late evening, the end to a long and busy day. They were hardly tired, however, and it showed considerably in their frivolous temperaments. Watching television was the last thing that could have satisfied their need to rid themselves of the extra energy before bed, but as soon as they incidentally discovered the _The Music Man_ was on, engaging in any other activity was quickly out of the question.

They were having a wonderful time delighting in the musical, laughing and joking to no extent. And it was only the first half-hour. Delia, who had been listening to them fool around for that time, as well as for the entire day itself, emerged from the bathroom. Unlike the rest of her family, she was all ready for bed, her weariness painted clearly on her sagging face.

Her eyes swept over the jovial scene before her, and the smile that she produced came easily. It was so great to see them all so happy and enlivened, a feeling that she found ever so difficult to attain in the past week. In fact, the week had done nothing good for her. The burden of sadness over her loss was not lifting, despite all she tried to get her mind off of it. Nothing was helping—not working, gardening, playing with the kids, cooking, trying to complete some of the last minute plans for the reception—_nothing_. And above all, her discouraging trip to the doctor's had not comforted her in the least.

Delia would have liked an answer, a straightforward, direct reason for her misery. It wouldn't have done any good now, in any event. There was no way that could allow her to go back and fix what was wrong. But she wanted an answer. Her doctor couldn't provide this as easily as wished, but at least she'd gained the small feeling of relief in the fact that she was not unhealthy. An afflicted embryo and the overwhelming presence of strain and hard work fell among the explanations for the miscarriage, neither of which she challenged. With condolences, her doctor released her, alleviating her of all but her crushing grief. That was up to her to overcome.

Of course, she knew that talking about it, confiding in her family, was the best thing to do. She just couldn't, though. Every time she looked at Jay, she wanted nothing more than to run to his arms and reveal her horrid experience, but something was holding her back. It was such terrible, terrible news, something she was not looking forward to disclosing—especially to Ash, but even more so to her husband. The first time she had miscarried, Delia swore it had killed Jay more than her. Recalling his deep melancholy over the event six years ago sent shivers up her spine. She didn't want to put him through that again. Perhaps . . . perhaps it were better if he didn't even know . . .

She had a sinking feeling, however, that it wasn't going to be kept bottled up for long. Desperately she tried to hide her emotions. She found concentration difficult, smiling difficult, relaxing difficult . . . her intimacy with Jay difficult. It worried her most of all that Jay had suspected something the other night when she'd refused his advances. She hadn't completely lied, as she had said she wasn't feeling very well, but she chose to omit the overlying reason as to why she was utterly terrified. With chance of getting pregnant again came the foreboding chance of miscarrying again. And that was something Delia knew she could never, ever endure again.

Her silent entrance into the room grabbed her son's attention, who looked positively enthralled to see her. "Mom, look!" he exclaimed, pointing at the television. "_The Music Man_ is on. Come watch!"

A smile curved tenderly on her dry lips. "Aw, baby, not tonight. I'm going to go to bed," she replied.

Ash's face fell. "Oh, c'mon!" he persuaded. "You love _The Music Man_! Look, they're gonna do _Ya Got Trouble_ in a minute! Come watch it!"

Misty, Brock, and Jay turned to give her coaxing looks as well, but as much as Delia wanted to comply, she couldn't. With her heart set so much on getting into a warm bed and ridding her mind—if just temporarily—of her unending mourning, not even one of her favorite movies and Ash's luminous face could draw her in.

"Sweetheart," she said softly, "I would love to, you know that, but I'm really tired. Some other time, okay? I promise. Just not tonight . . . I'm not up for it right now."

In spite of his disappointment, Ash smiled understandably. "All right."

"Good night," she whispered affably. She came over, gave him a quick kiss, and ruffled his hair. "Don't go to bed too late, okay?"

Ash nodded, tugging on her bathrobe longingly for just a moment before she gently pulled away. Bidding the others a good night, she left, keeping them in sight until she made it up the stairs. She felt a little guilty for not joining them, most of all Ash, but she knew there was no way she could make it through the whole movie. As she reached her soft bed and climbed in, she no longer thought about it. Thwarted by sleepiness, she relaxed in the tranquil solitude, the muffled sounds of the others' laughter below, and waited for sleep to take over.

Jay and the kids didn't tire out at all from the movie. If anything, it made them more rambunctious, as commercial breaks threw them into fits of capricious frenzy, darting to and from the kitchen to grab more snacks and drinks. They giggled the whole time, but tried as best they could to keep the noise down. Jay admonished them repeatedly that Delia was trying to sleep, but even he had to keep his loud, playful voice in check a few times.

This commercial break, however, was not spent in the kitchen rummaging for food. Instead, Ash and Misty were facing off, each on either side of the couch, their eyes blazing into the other's—Ash's full of mischief and Misty's of gleeful insult. Ash was light and alert on his toes, eager to use the makeshift barrier to keep himself safe from Misty's wrath. And yet the taunting comments continued to spill from his mouth. He didn't seem to mind; Misty's touchy attitude was too priceless for him to care.

"Ash, I swear to God," she warned, her grin making the threat and the pointed finger directed his way useless. "Don't you dare call me that again!"

Ash just laughed friskily. "But it's your name!" he argued. "Why can't I call you who you are . . . _Ethel_?"

"_Ash!_" Misty bellowed, trying to dart around the couch to make a swipe at him. He yelped playfully and jumped away, leaving her grabbing for air. They made a complete circle around the couch, ending up in the positions they started off in.

"I'm warning you . . . _shut up_," Misty grumbled, giving him an intimidating glare. Ash's silly face was unwavering—he was having a ball. Of course he knew comparing Misty to Ethel Tufflemeyer, the plump, clumsy girl with flamboyantly big hair from the movie, wasn't going to settle well with her . . . but he was doing it anyway.

"Warning me of what?" he retorted, putting on a facetious look of angelic innocence. "I just said that I didn't know they cast you for this movie! How come you never told me about it . . . Ethel?"

"Uggggh!" Misty growled. Their laughs resounded through the house as she tore after him again. "Get over here, I'm gonna kill you!"

They ran around the couch a few more times, Pikachu and Togepi springing on the cushions and cheering on the chase happily. Brock rushed in from the kitchen to laugh at the display himself, and even made an attempt to catch Ash just to witness the fun of Misty getting her hands on him. Ash managed to maneuver from his grasp, but Misty gained dangerously on his lead.

"Eth-el, Eth-el!" he chanted, indulging in the look of spirited fury that glimmered in her eyes. He screamed as she almost seized him, and in the next instant he dashed up the stairs, Misty hot on his heels.

"Ash, cut it out!" she guffawed, having no intentions whatsoever of letting him get away with this. "Shut up!"

"Hey, you two!" Jay called as their feet trampled the staircase loudly. He ran out from the kitchen to witness them disappear on the second floor. "Quiet down! Mom's sleeping! _Hey!_"

They didn't pay any attention. Ash ran as fast as he could, hoping to reach his room and lock himself in before Misty caught him. He knew that was impossible, though, as he could feel her right on his tail, sending shivers up his spine. Bursting into his room, he hurdled over one of the rollaway beds, his giddy laughs hardly diminishing, while Misty stopped at the doorway, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Please don't hurt me, Ethel," Ash begged, tapping the tips of his fingers together.

"Only if you stop calling me that, Ash. I mean it, I _swear_."

"Calling you what, Ethel?"

"Oh, that's it!" Misty screeched, not realizing just how loud her voice was. She was having too much of a good time, flustered over Ash's derisive actions or not, to pay any mind to it. Quickly, she closed the door and locked it, cocking her head haughtily.

"There. Now no one can come in and save you while I _strange_ you!"

With that, she bounded towards him. Ash held out his arms in defense, but it was no match. Misty jumped him, and the two went down together on the bed, Ash squawking as the force from her weight knocked the wind out of him.

"Get offa me, get off!" he hollered, laughing chaotically. He was red in the face from the tumult.

Misty just responded by pressing all her weight against his shoulders and her knees into his stomach, detaining him helplessly.

"Not until you stop calling me that," she reasoned in a sing-song voice, flashing him an insidious grin.

"No!" Ash cried defiantly, only to receive numerous hard shoves deeper into the mattress. The springs of the bed crooned, but were easily outmatched by his deafening wails of laughter and protest. "I won't, I won't!"

"Oh, yes you will!" Misty returned, reaching over to snatch the pillow. Ash let out a yelp as she mashed it decisively into his face, smothering back his laughs and cries. All that came from his struggling form were muffled grunts as his arms and legs flew about precariously.

Misty laughed freely as she watched and felt him squirm beneath her. After a few moments, she let the pillow up, and gazed expectantly into his tearing eyes.

"If you apologize, I'll let you go," she told him.

"Wh-what?" Ash replied through gasps for breath. He chuckled, almost as if her intention was ridiculous. "No way! No, no, _wait, Mis_—!"

The pillow came down on his face again, and Misty hummed in soft ignorance as Ash strove to free himself furiously.

She graciously allowed a lung-full of air to the flushed boy. "What's my name?"

Panting, Ash gave her a brassy smile. "Ethel!" he replied perversely. Down came the pillow for another painstaking assault.

"Apologize!" she commanded, lifting it briefly.

"Never!" Ash declared, raising a fist into the air as the pillow descended upon him again. This time he was able to toss his head to the side, getting in a few good breaths as Misty flattened her weight against the pillow.

Their laughs—as well as Ash's whining for mercy—were blaring now, reverberating in the tiny bedroom and then some. Having the time of their lives, they were completely oblivious to the riot they were stirring within the small house. Jay and Brock easily heard them, Jay having a mixed look of irritation and dread on his face. He knew their foolishness was going to wake Delia as soon as they'd stampeded up the stairs, and he was just about to go up and terminate their fun when he heard his bedroom door opening. It was too late.

Contrary to his worries, though, Delia had not been sleeping. That didn't mean she wasn't close to it, nevertheless. Having a problem falling asleep that night, she was finally drifting towards the repose of slumber when Ash and Misty's ruckus shattered her peace. It was torment to even _think_ of getting out of bed, and momentarily, she hadn't, hoping that the two would come to their senses and quit their childish and inappropriate behavior quickly. As she lay in bed and listened to their squeals cumulate, she realized they weren't stopping.

She groaned loudly in disgruntlement as she lugged herself out of bed, not even grasping for her bathrobe as she threw open her door and ventured into the dark hallway. She could see the light spilling out from the crack beneath her son's door, and couldn't believe that even from behind that their laughs were so excessively clamorous.

Her sleepy frown denoting her displeasure, Delia reached to turn the doorknob, but faltered brusquely when discovering it locked. Holding her breath, she froze as still as stone in the enclosing dark, her eyes squinting in perplexity and slight alarm.

Something didn't settle well within her. It came and hit her all at once, a feeling that she didn't expect and most surely didn't take kindly to.

_What are they doing in there . . . ?_ The forbidding thought of her boy and his girlfriend—alone, clowning around, and behind a locked door tightened the nerves throughout her body, that of which with a violent jerk she responded to without a moment of delay. She clutched the knob and jiggled it fiercely, banging on the door with a restless fist.

"Hey! Hey!" she shouted, the pounding abruptly ceasing the noise behind it. "What's going on in there? Open up!" _Open up NOW!_

Inside, the two kids became paralyzed from the unanticipated cessation of their game—and thankfully, it was during an interval the pillow was not suffocating Ash. Their eyes locked, widening in apprehension amidst their dizzy expressions.

Silence was all that followed for a good second or two. Delia didn't like it; it was too untimely and lathered in culpability, making her suspicious all the more. She wanted the door open—and _fast_. She hammered impatiently on it again, making her son's body lurch.

"Nothing!" Ash replied quickly. "Hold on a sec!"

At once, Misty scrambled off of Ash. He cringed, and mouthed her a highly discernible _"Oh, crap!"_ before rising briskly to let his mother in. From the sound of her inflexible voice and hard raps that rattled the hinges of his door, he wasn't going to keep her waiting long.

He opened the door to receive a rigid glare from Delia, that of which was not unexpected. Shrinking back from the harrowing look, he stepped away in admitting her to come in if she wished. His mom took the opportunity, her unbending grimace working its way through Ash and Misty's tensing muscles.

"What are you two doing, making all that noise at this time of night?" Delia demanded. She briefly shot a glower of vexation at Misty, which the girl flinched at, not used to receiving such a look from her. "Are you crazy!?"

"We're sorry," Ash replied, his voice sincere with guilt. "We didn't know we were making so much noise. Did we wake you up?"

"You sure did!" she grumbled. "What were you _doing?_"

"We were just fooling around," her son mumbled inaudibly.

"Uh-huh," Misty nodded, looking entirely repentant.

"We didn't mean to," Ash went on. "We didn't realize how loud we were being."

His last statements were hardly regarded by Delia, however. It was the one beforehand that made her body constrict with wariness. She floundered for a fleeting moment as she took in the appearance of the kids: their faces scarlet from arousal; their bodies heaving as they struggled to catch their breaths. She didn't like it—didn't like it _at all_.

"What do you mean, fooling around?" she snapped, startling the kids with her biting tone. "And why was the door locked!? You had no reason to lock the door! Who did that? Why!?"

The heavy string of questions set whirls of disorientation through Ash and Misty. For one considerably tired looking person, Delia's denouncing inquisition was alarming.

"Why was the . . .?" Ash echoed slowly, completely stupefied by her troubles. Misty stepped forward.

"I locked the door," she admitted, her voice tottering as she tried to make sense of it herself. "I'm sorry, it was just a natural reflex—"

"But what difference does it make?" Ash interjected. "We were just having fun, that's all."

"I don't care," his mother said, pointing a finger at them. "You can have fun, but that's no excuse for making so much racket this late at night! And I don't like locked doors, either, you hear me?"

"Okay . . . fine," Ash replied, granting her satisfaction. Still baffled over her distress, he and Misty nodded, sharing a quick, dazed glance with each other. They had no idea why locking the door had suddenly required such a harsh dosage of censure, but they weren't going to contend it. Not now at least.

Delia eased, her heart pounding from the stir of having to do all this worrying and reprimanding at this time of the day. She ran her hands through her tangled, bed-trodden hair.

"All right. I don't want to hear any more noise tonight," she said quietly but firmly, turning to go back to her room. "If this movie is riling you up so much, then maybe you should go to bed."

"No, no," Ash assured. "We'll be quiet now. I promise."

"Yeah," Misty added softly, "me, too. We won't make any more noise."

Not another word was spoken as Ash and Misty, their heads hanging, slid their way past Delia and headed down the stairs. They were undoubtedly feeling regretful at that point, and were looking forward to getting back to finish watching the movie. Neither had the desire to make another peep of noise, and Delia knew this. However, that hardly remained the number one concern in her mind.

Just as the kids had descended the stairs, Jay appeared, throwing a glance down at them, then turning all his attention on his wife. Delia slouched, letting her heavy eyelids shut as she moaned tiredly.

"I'm sorry about that," he shook his head. "I tried to stop them—they're way too hyper right now. They woke you, didn't they?"

Delia moaned again. "No . . . no, I've been awake. I'm having trouble sleeping."

"Well, you look really tired," Jay noted. He came up beside her and brushed her hair delicately out of her face. "I'll make sure they're quiet now; you can go back to bed."

Though her weariness was still dominant, Delia couldn't think of sleep right now. A new anxiety distressed her, but she kept quiet as she thought about it. Languidly, she turned to look inside Ash's room. The light was still on, as he had forgotten to shut it off in their skirmish to escape her irritable mood. She inspected the scene that lay before her.

Though his room was by no means small, it looked so cramped, so tight. The extra beds made it this way. And up until now, Delia hadn't minded it at all; she was actually proud that she was able to accommodate Misty and Brock so comfortably. But it was different now, in that instant. Brock's bed drew her reluctant regard the most, the one Ash and Misty had most noticeably been on moments ago. The covers were all disorderly, the pillow was on the floor. It was not straight anymore—it was crooked and jammed up against Ash's desk, brought there by force and disturbance.

Imagines she didn't even want to conjure up began to flash through her mind. Of course, she knew they were—_hoped _they were—preposterous, her trivial worries coming back to exaggerate themselves in her head. Still, as her stare brandished into the tousled bed, her brow furrowed with concern. The thing that shot from her mouth next came with no effort, no further consideration.

"I don't think I want Misty in here anymore."

Her husband was just about to request that she head back to bed again as the blunt statement surfaced, befuddling him for a second.

"Huh? Wait, _what?_"

Delia spun to face him. "Misty. I . . . I don't think I want her in the room with them anymore—Ash and Brock."

Jay paused, narrowing his eyes as he tried to follow. "I—I'm sorry, _what _do you want to do? You want to move Misty!?" She nodded, biting her lip as she glimpsed into the room again. "Why?"

"Because . . . I don't like it anymore, that's why. Just now—I didn't like it."

"Didn't like what?" Jay asked. "Them running around like maniacs? What does that have to do with them sharing a room?"

"It doesn't," Delia said. She sighed, shaking her head as she focused her elucidation. "Jay, they were just in here, one second ago, and the door was locked."

"What? The door was locked?"

"Locked," Delia affirmed, nodding once. "They were in there . . . and the door was _locked_."

His face suddenly became ashen with panic. "Why was it locked? What were they doing in there?" he exclaimed hastily.

"Nothing," she responded, hoping she was correct in saying so. "But still . . . it's made me think." Her voice lowered. "I really don't think I like the idea of Misty being in the same room with Ash anymore. Brock either, for that matter."

Jay eased, and gave her a pensive look. After hearing that Ash and Misty hadn't been up to no good in the room, his fear rapidly vanished, replaced by curiosity over her fret.

"But why are you worried, then?" he shrugged. "If they weren't doing anything bad, what difference does it make?"

"What difference does it make?" Delia echoed incredulously. "Jay, it doesn't matter whether they were doing anything bad in there or not! All I'm saying is that this has opened my eyes. I don't know why I wasn't worried about this sooner, but—"

"Maybe because it didn't _have_ to be worried about," he interrupted her, arching an eyebrow. He gave her a smile and rubbed her arms robustly. "Delia, honey, sweetheart, go to bed. Okay? We'll talk about this in the morning."

Delia promptly scowled at his nonchalant nature. She tore away from his gentle grip, and Jay was slightly taken aback. "I don't want to go to bed. Jay, come on, listen to me!" All sleepiness was gone from her voice as she implored him to heed.

"I don't want you to tell me that I'm being ridiculous again, because I'm not," she said, somewhat bitterly. "I'm not worried that they're going to do anything wrong—at least, they won't do anything they _know_ is wrong." She suspended to conveniently give way for Jay's jaded sigh and rolling of the eyes. Her voice increased in slight desperation.

"But just the fact that they're boyfriend and girlfriend and sharing the same room is something we _shouldn't_ allow. And we do. Don't you see anything wrong with that . . . _at all?_"

He had to. Delia stared at him as he took this in mind, glancing at the floor prudently. She wanted to try her best not to sound psychotic about it, as her other concerns made Jay so exasperated. But if one was more considerable, more important than the others, it was this one. As Delia thought on and on about it, she couldn't believe that she had let it go as far as it did. She was almost ashamed of herself that she'd allowed her son and Misty, whose relationship was growing stronger by the day, to sleep as close as they did to each other.

Jay finally lifted his head. "Yes. Yes, I do see something wrong with it. It's not totally right, I know."

"_Totally_ right!?"

He glared at her shortly. "_But_ . . . look, they're not doing anything bad. Ash and Misty are smart kids, and they also know what's right and wrong. I think we can trust them together in the same room, I really do. We've been _through_ this."

Delia sighed. "Yes, I know, Jay, but—"

He held up his hand to desist her words, and went on calmly. "I understand where you're coming from with this, but we can talk about it more tomorrow. Okay? Look, I have the movie downstairs I want to get back to, and you look like you're about to drop dead of exhaustion in one minute—"

"Jay!" Delia griped. He shuddered as her sharp voice pierced his ears. "No, I'm not waiting for tomorrow! And I'm not tired. I want Misty's bed moved, and I want it moved now."

Her emphatic decree stunned Jay. "What? Moved _where?_" he cried, sounding even more annoyed. "Where are we gonna move it?"

Delia's reply came readily. "The sitting room."

"The _sitting room!?_" he gasped in disbelief, his eyes widening. Seriously, she had to be joking! "Delia, that's a friggin' closet!"

"It is not!"

"It's the size of one!" Jay firmly argued. He couldn't believe she was actually suggesting that they place Misty's bed in the sitting room. Besides the two bedrooms, it was the only other compartment that could technically be considered a room in the diminutive upper story of the home, furnished with practically only a reading lamp and lounging chair. It was a pleasant little room to kick up your feet in, relax, and take in a book, but it was certainly no room for someone to sleep in.

"It's a nice room, and I think Misty would like sleeping in there," Delia debated, her voice attaining a high amount of resolution. "It's small, yes, I admit that, but if we move the chair around, and squeeze the bed in . . ."

"_Delia_," Jay said, sounding out each syllable of her name with curt skepticism, "would you _listen_ to yourself! You're going to take Misty out of that nice, spacious room that she's sharing with two very nice, very considerate boys and move her to the cramped, stuffy sitting room!? Are you out of your mind!?"

Delia pursed her lips angrily. "I am not out of my mind—but I must've been to encourage Ash to think that it's right to sleep in the same room with a girl, much less his _girlfriend!_"

Jay slapped his thighs in frustration, then ran his shaky hands through his hair. Delia's eyes simply enlarged.

"Are you telling me, Jacey, that you want your son and his girlfriend to sleep in the same room, and think that that's simply okay? That that's just the right and normal thing to do?"

"They sleep in Pokémon Centers, and—and out in the forest together, for God's sake!" Jay blurted out, gesticulating wildly. "I'm sure during cold nights the three of them are sandwiched together! They're used to it; it's not any different here!"

Delia stared at him rigidly, taking deep breaths. "In my house, it is. I'm sorry, Jay, but I want my son to grow up with morals. Excuse me if you think that's _wrong_."

Jay opened his mouth, but didn't say a word. Staring at the floor and shaking his head, he couldn't believe how much she was fighting for this. Deep down, he did bear in mind what she was saying, and it did make sense. He didn't want to argue over it, though; he felt Misty sharing a room with Ash and Brock was unnatural, but nothing to fear. He held utmost trust in them that they knew what they were doing, that they were mature and trustworthy enough to know what was right.

It was obviously going to take some push to convince Delia otherwise.

"Now, are you gonna help me move her bed, or what?" she asked quietly. She was going to do it, with his help or not. She just hoped he would come to his senses and realize the seriousness behind the matter.

Jay voice was austerely low. "You're just gonna move her bed? Simple as that?"

Delia gave him a face, but nodded.

"You're not gonna tell Misty?"

"I'll tell them when they're done watching the movie."

Jay bit his lip, then moved by her and into the room. Knowing there was no way he could satisfy her at this point, and not wanting to get into some fierce argument at ten o'clock at night, he begrudgingly but discreetly surrendered. He began to lift the blankets and sheets over the bed, making it easier to grip the sides.

"They're not gonna like this," he mumbled, a hint of forewarning brewing in his tone.

"I know," Delia replied lightly. "I said I'll talk to them, don't worry." She was worried herself, though. She knew in an flash neither were going to like the new change. But, as Jay had decisively pointed out, they were smart, and they did know what was right for them. Perhaps it wasn't going to be as big a difficulty as she feared.

Moving the bed was hard, but Jay and Delia managed to accomplish it. The rollaway _just_ squeezed in, and it was undoubtedly close quarters in the small sitting room. It took a bit of undertaking to position the furniture around accordingly, and to their surprise, everything fit. It looked kind of snug and cozy, Delia thought as she gazed into the room after the work was done. Even she herself found it an appealing little set-up. Misty was bound to mind it, if not love it . . . she hoped.

Jay finished watching the movie with the kids, not mentioning a word of what had been done upstairs. He and Delia didn't speak after the bed was moved in; she had gone back to their room to read for a while, as she was too wound up to conceive the concept of sleep. The thought of the whole ordeal, and the kids' reactions to come, would not leave his mind the entire time, keeping him in torturous suspense. He hoped that during one of the remaining commercial breaks one of the kids would randomly head upstairs for some incidental reason and reveal the alteration, just to get the trouble over with and fast.

But none of the kids ever left the couch. Ash and Misty's run-in with Delia had certainly reversed their spirits, as they were positively repelled to move an inch or utter a solitary word. Ash was immobile enough to allow Pikachu to fall asleep on his lap, and remain that way undisturbed until the end credits rolled up the screen. If anything beneficial came out of the situation, it certainly fortified the idea of sleep in their heads. Ash, Misty, and Brock couldn't wait to get into bed and shut their eyes for the night.

When Brock reached over to switch off the television, Jay's stomach clenched nervously. _Uh-oh._ _Here we go_, he thought, watching the kids scurry up the stairs. He quickly got to his feet and followed, nearly holding his breath as he waited for the inevitable discovery.

Ash, naturally, was the first to get there. He was so pleasantly sleepy that for a second he didn't even realize what was missing in his room. All he knew upon entering was the obvious absence of something. His room wasn't this spacious! Only after pausing and blinking a few times did he detect just exactly what that was, sending a wave of confusion through his body.

"Where's my bed?" This was Misty, whose puzzlement, unlike Ash's, did not drain all the words from her mouth. Ash was just standing there, gawking at the large patch of blue carpet that had once been Misty's bed, now bare, deserted.

"Where'd your bed go?" Brock asked Misty, simply repeating out loud what all three of the kids were wondering.

"I don't know!" she responded. She turned towards Ash. "What happened to my bed?"

Ash lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. As the situation melted into him, he twisted slowly to face his baffled friends, his forehead wrinkled. He said nothing to them, though, as he caught sight of Jay in the hallway, who was edging closer with a subtle look of insight on his face. Instantly, he tore past his friends and towards his father.

"Dad, where's Misty's bed?" He pointed into his room. "Why isn't it there?"

Shutting his eyes, Jay groaned. "Ash, listen. Um, your mother and I came a decision before . . ."

Just then, the bedroom door across the way opened, and with a frantic dash Ash hastened to confront his mom.

"Where's Misty's bed?" he repeated, only to receive the same hesitant look that Jay had given him. This only made him more jumpy, as his unawareness of what was going on quickly set panic through him. He witnessed his parents share a secretive glance.

"Where's Misty's bed?" he implored again. "What happened to it? Why isn't it in my room any more?"

Misty and Brock stepped back as Ash's voice dramatically increased in desperation. They said not a word as they watched attentively, wondering what could possibly be going on.

Delia gently lifted her hand to restrain Ash. "Ash, shhh, shhh, listen to me. Calm down." Though he was discomfited, Ash complied, suppressing all but his coarse breathing.

"Misty's bed is in the sitting room," she finished softly, and Ash's face promptly lit up in shock. For the first time, she stole a glance at Misty to see how she looked, and was surprised to see she appeared much more passive. Her concentration couldn't be taken off of Ash for long, however, as she could feel his aghast stare, commanding an explanation.

"The sitting room?" Ash gasped. "Wh-wh-why's it in there? Why'd you move it there?"

"The sitting room?" Misty silently echoed.

"Ash, shh, be quiet," Jay said, bringing a finger to his lips. "We're gonna explain."

"No, no!" Ash suddenly fired off, shaking his head with a sense of what could have been mistaken for terror. "Why is it in there? What's going on!?"

Misty flinched as his voice grew even louder. Though she was incoherent to what was occurring, she didn't like when he sounded this way.

"Ash, please, be quiet," she begged gently. Hearing her voice drew Jay and Delia's attention, and she met their gaze with an inquisitive lifting of her eyes.

"Misty, honey, I'm sorry to do this to you tonight—" Delia started, but was instead rudely interrupted by Ash's impatient voice once again.

"What did you do?" he exclaimed, receiving a cold glare from his mother. He ignored it. "Mom, why did you move her bed there?"

"Would you be quiet for a second?" she replied, annoyed. "I'm trying to tell you why!"

At her hard tone, Ash shut his mouth, taking a few steps backwards to where Misty and Brock stood. He didn't like anything of what was going on, especially the fact that the explanation for it was taking an oddly prolonged amount of time. His displeasure remained in his rigorous frown.

"Ash, we've been thinking about this whole sleeping arrangements thing," Jay explained. He hoped to reinforce the composure with his even-tempered voice. "And . . . and we feel that . . . maybe it would be better that Misty doesn't share a room with you two guys anymore."

Delia nodded correspondingly. That was hardly what was displayed on the kids' faces, however. They gaped vacantly, unable to comprehend what had just been disclosed.

"What do you mean?" Brock was the first to speak. "Why don't you think Misty should be in here anymore?"

"It's nothing bad," Jay assured. "We just feel it's a little inappropriate. Especially now that you two—" He motioned towards Ash and Misty, whose faces scrunched. "—are together, we don't think it's right for you all to be in the same room."

At that, Ash quickly found his voice. "Why not?" he demanded, startling his parents again with his fussy resonance.

"Ash," Delia sighed, preparing to reason.

"Why is it inappropriate?" Ash said. "You never said anything about this before."

"That's because we didn't think anything about it up until now," responded his mom, trying her best to collect herself against Ash's arguing.

It didn't make sense to Ash and Misty. They exchanged a look, sharing with each other their related confusion. Suddenly, as if the same event was brought to their minds like a paranormal connection, their eyes widened. Ash was the first to react.

"Is it about what happened tonight? About what me and Misty did—making all that noise? Is that what this is?"

Misty's body tensed as Ash brought this up. Certainly her being removed from Ash's room wasn't some sort of penalty for their unruly actions earlier that night. Delia and Jay weren't like that, she was sure. Ash, on the other hand, didn't feel as deniable; he was almost convinced that it was the reason, and by all means he wasn't ready to give into it.

"No," Delia shook her head. "It has nothing to do with that whatsoever. It has to do with the fact that . . . well, it's something I've been thinking about."

Seeing Misty's pained look at that point made her heart heavy, but in no way influenced her to reconsider.

"I'm not doing this to upset you," she said peacefully to her. She wanted to make sure they knew there was positive reinforcement behind her impulsive decision. "I'm doing this because I think it's right. It'll make me feel a lot better, and I think you might like it, too."

Ash's face suddenly wrinkled with anger. "I'm not going to like it!"

"Ash, please," Misty whispered again.

"Ash, settle down. Be quiet," Jay reproached.

"NO!" Ash cried, stamping his foot. This was it for him. He still didn't understand why this was unfolding, but regardless of its purpose, he couldn't allow it. "This isn't fair! Why are you doing this?"

Delia and Jay frowned at him, but before either had a chance to speak, Brock got his word in.

"Wait a second," he said hastily, placing a restrictive hand on Ash's shoulder. Ash jerked, but any dispute that was ready to spill from his lips was halted. Achieving their ears, Brock took a deep breath and alternated his look from Jay to Delia.

"Look," he said, "I understand what you're saying about this. I know it's not appropriate for Misty to sleep in the same room with us. But . . . just so you know, you really don't have anything to worry about."

Ash and Misty reclined confidently as he continued.

"We don't do anything—_anything_—that you wouldn't approve of. I mean, we're used to each other, but that doesn't mean we change our clothes in front of each other, or . . . or share beds. We don't do anything like that. We just . . . share a room, that's all. We don't do anything wrong or inappropriate, if that's what you're afraid of—that you can't trust us. I—I know I can't change your decision, and I don't want you to get upset because you think I am . . . but I just wanted to let you know. You really don't have to worry. We're okay."

Well done, Brock. This was the simultaneous, mental praise Ash and Misty gave him, quite pleased with what he said. Together, they turned to Jay and Delia, anticipating that their minds had been changed by Brock's credible words. There was a moment of silence as the speech settled in, and it was definitely running through Jay and Delia's heads. They didn't oppose it—they believed it whole-heartedly, Jay mostly. Not that this was surprising, as he still wasn't completely endorsing this idea. Delia was a different story.

"Brock, I believe you, I do," she admitted. "I don't believe you kids are doing anything wrong. But it's not going to change my mind. I think this is for the best."

Misty looked down. She was unquestionably not happy with what she was hearing, but she was in no position to oppose it. She knew disputing their decision was going to make matters difficult, and she didn't want to cause trouble. Jay and Delia did have the final and ultimate say, after all.

Ash didn't think this way under any circumstances. After Brock's uplifting address had heightened his spirits, his mother's refusal absolutely burned him up. He glanced at Misty to witness her face fall glumly, and that was it. His body twitched as he realized she wasn't going to say anything. But not him. His parents were being ridiculous now, and he wasn't going to accept this without a fight.

Balling his fists furiously, he grumbled, "_I_ don't think it's for the best! This isn't _fair!_" His glare was directed Delia's way. "You can't do this! You can't keep Misty out of my room."

"Yes, I can, Ash," Delia said. "She's just going to be in the sitting room, right across the hall."

"But I don't want her there!" he replied gruffly. "I want her to sleep in _my _room! She's my friend!"

"I know that, but that still doesn't mean it's right. Don't you understand?"

"No!" Ash cried. "You're just being unfair, that's all! I want Misty in my room! Put her bed back in my room!"

"Ash, I'm not going to. It's better this way."

"No it isn't! It's crap this way!"

"_Ash_—"

"PUT HER BED BACK IN MY ROOM!"

The air became dense as the heated disagreement intensified, making Misty and Brock tense considerably and Jay's temper rise. There was a pause before Delia spoke.

"Stop screaming at me, Ash," she warned, her voice lowering to emphasize it.

"I won't STOP SCREAMING!" Ash yelled, raising his voice even more in stubbornness. "Not until you let her sleep in my room!"

"Ash, please!" Misty beseeched before Delia had a chance to react. This was exactly the kind of trouble she didn't want to start. "Stop it, it's okay! Really! It's okay, I don't mind."

"I won't stop, Misty!" Ash turned to her. He knew her indifferent submission to this was just a product of apprehension. "I know you don't want to sleep in that room! And I'm not gonna let it happen!"

"But Ash—" Misty pleaded.

"Ash, you can yell and scream and pout all you want," Delia intervened, fed up with his attitude. "But she's not going back in your room. I'm not changing my mind."

Ash growled. "Yes you are! This isn't fair!"

"Ash, cut it out now!" Brock said, not liking where this was going. The looks on Jay and Delia's faces made _him _tremble. "You're being an idiot!"

"No!" Ash defied. "_They're _being idiots!"

By this point, Jay was livid. Ash's unmanageable rebellion was beginning to unnerve him immensely, and he wasn't going to take it anymore. With a heavy stomp of his foot, intense enough to shake the house, everyone froze, their hearts leaping to their throats.

"Okay, THAT'S IT!" he roared. His savage glare and pointed finger was steered Ash's way. "I'm putting my foot down! This is OVER! Misty is sleeping in the other room, and that's FINAL! You understand me? FINAL! And you don't you dare say another word against it! NOT ONE WORD!"

His thundering voice was enough to make Misty and Brock retreat back, regardless of whether his fury was directed towards them or not, terror flashing across their faces. Jay's word was not to be opposed, and, to their relief, Ash had no inclination of doing so. Their eyes shakily focused on the boy, who, though standing his ground quite firmly, was speechless.

There was an awkward period of silence that resulted, and desperately, Ash fought to control his tears. He was done fighting, but he still didn't see the rationale behind what he deemed a cruel intention. With a shake of his head, he sneered at his parents.

"Thanks a lot," he snarled. "I hate you."

With that, he turned on his heels and ran into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Misty and Brock gawked in disbelief at the door, while Jay, fuming, headed for his bedroom without another word. Delia's eyes were cast down, wavering with shock and pain over Ash's harsh words. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. She knew he'd object, but not this strongly.

Yet, not ten minutes later, she led Misty to the sitting room, managing a weak smile as she led her in. Misty had obviously seen the room before, and Delia knew she liked it, but after the scene that erupted before, she wasn't sure just what was going on in Misty's mind.

"I'm sorry about this," Delia felt obliged to apologize again. "I know this is so sudden, making you move like this."

Misty smiled. "No, it's okay," she assured, her voice dainty. She placed slumberous Togepi on her pillow and sat down on her bed, pulling the sheets back.

"I know it's a tight squeeze," Delia went on ruefully, looking around the room. "It's not meant to be a bedroom, but . . . I thought you'd might like it."

"Oh, I like it," Misty said truthfully. She had nothing against the sitting room, which she found, in fact, to be the cutest room in the house. She just never expected to be spending the night there. "I think it's warm and cozy."

"Yeah, me, too," Delia smiled. "I love this room a lot. I thought, you know, it's quiet, and you can have privacy whenever you want. Now you can come in here, shut the door, and neither one of those guys can bother you." She and Misty laughed lightly.

"That actually does sound really nice," Misty said. "I haven't had my own room in a long time. It's pretty exciting."

"I'm sure it is," Delia said. Her face then fell sheepishly. "You . . . understand why I'm doing this, right?"

To her relief, Misty continued to smile. "Oh yeah, sure I do," she nodded gently.

"I don't want you to be upset, honey. It's not that I don't trust you. I just . . . well, with you and Ash and everything, I get a little nervous . . ."

"No, no, I completely understand!" Misty affirmed, cringing through her laughs. "Believe me, if my parents ever found out I was sharing a room with Ash, I'd be in _so_ much trouble."

Delia had to chuckle. "Well, don't worry," she promised, making a zipping motion across her lips. "They won't hear about it from me."

"Thanks," Misty beamed. Blinking contentedly, she slid into her covers and pulled them up to her chest. She looked affectionately at Togepi and stroked his fuzzy spikes, basking delightedly in the silent, sleepy trills he emitted. Delia watched her with a restful smile, relieved and happy that Misty was not terribly disappointed. She looked comfortable.

"So," she sighed, feeling a yawn coming on, "I'm sure you're tired."

"Yeah, I am," Misty replied, feeling her eyelids become heavy as she did so.

"Well, you'll sleep good in here. You'll see, it's the most comfortable room in the house." Noticing then that Misty was looking past her, she turned with a knowing smile to where her stare was directed: two old, creepy-looking oil portraits of a middle-aged man and woman, their stern faces glowering outward.

"Oh, and don't let my great-grandparents scare you," she grinned. "They look scary, but they won't bother you."

"Oh, is that who they are?" Misty giggled, blushing. "I'm not scared of them. I think they're really interesting."

"Ash used to be terrified of them," Delia said, shaking her head as she gazed at the paintings. "Then again, I was really afraid of them when I was a kid. My parents had them hanging in their living room. But with Ash . . . for the longest time, I had to keep them up in the attic. He'd cry if he came in here. He claimed they would smile at him."

Misty chortled light-headedly. "Awwww."

Delia took a deep breath, thinking of Ash as she recalled the stories. Suddenly feeling crestfallen, she remembered his biting words minutes before, and tried not to think about it.

"Yes, but he grew up. Which I'm happy about, because I really do like these pictures and I wanted to put them up very badly. Once you get over being scared to death of them, you come to like them. I had to beg my folks to give them to me after I got married."

Smiling proudly, Misty said, "Well, _I'm_ not scared of them. They're cool."

Delia cocked an eye at her. "Wait till the lights are out." She chuckled mysteriously as Misty playfully put on a face of fright, throwing the blankets over her head. When she emerged from them a few seconds later, they grinned widely at each other.

"All right," Delia said peacefully. "I'm gonna go to bed. You all comfy and warm?"

"You bet," Misty sighed. "I love it in here."

"I'm so glad," she replied, feeling gratified by those simple words. Her voice flowed affably. "Good night, Misty dear."

Misty suddenly perked before Delia had a chance to switch the light off. "Wait a second."

"Hmm?" she moaned, raising her eyebrows attentively.

Pausing for a moment, Misty smiled pleasantly. "Thank you," she whispered.

Delia tilted her head. "Thank you for what, sweetheart?"

Misty glanced down at her lap. "For everything. For . . . you know, treating me so nice. For doing all this stuff for me and letting me stay here. I really appreciate it."

Delia was motionless as the sweet words cascaded through her body, warming her with a welcoming sensation of fondness. Though she received thanks from Misty on many occasions, this one moment seemed different, more tenderly uplifting. Slowly but surely, a smile of complete humbleness lifted her lips.

"You're very welcome," she whispered back.

Misty nodded, her eyes drooping with pleasant sleepiness. She let her head drift to her pillow. "Good night, Mom."

Delia smiled. "Good night." Amidst the wonderful feeling Misty's words brought, though, was the dampening presence of sadness. She hadn't gotten a loving "Good night, Mom" from her boy, and probably wasn't going to. As the thought of it swept to her mind again, she shut the light off and closed the door ever so quietly. For a moment, she thought of attempting to see Ash before going to bed, but quickly abandoned the idea. She didn't want any more tension tonight.

Back across the hall, Brock sat up in his bed, his head ponderous and tired. He wanted greatly to go to sleep, but he couldn't right now. For one, the light was still on. For another, Ash was pacing about angrily and quite loudly, his face as flaming red as his father's when he powerfully ended the whole ordeal, infuriated with all that had happened.

"Ash, please," Brock groaned for about the tenth time. "Please go to bed."

"No!" Ash snapped in reply, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "I want Misty in here! This is ridiculous!"

Brock slouched. "I know, I know," he said wearily. "But you can't do anything about it tonight. Just forget about it."

"I won't forget about it!" Ash growled through clenched teeth.

"Pika pi," Pikachu entreated silently, troubled by Ash's incessant ire. "Pikachu."

Ash glared over at his Pokémon, who was sitting on his bed. "I'm not going to, Pikachu! I won't. Not until she's back in here!"

He went back to storming around his room, then stopped abruptly to give his dresser a brutal kick, rattling the wall and toppling his knick-knacks.

"Ash! Knock it off!" Brock begged, his voice becoming louder. He rose slightly from his bed. "You want your parents in here!?"

"Yes! Yes I do, Brock!" Ash replied. "I want them in here so I can tell them how stupid they're being! I can't believe they _did _this!"

Brock frowned sternly. "Well, I don't! I want you to calm down and go to bed. Stop looking for trouble."

"Don't you want Misty back in here? Huh? Don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Brock responded. "But this can be settled tomorrow. And it can be settled without you throwing a damn fit."

Ash's eyes burned into his. "I don't care what it takes."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't!" Ash cried. "If my parents aren't gonna be fair, then I won't, either!"

Brock shook his head. He couldn't believe how headstrong Ash was about this. If only he understood what his parents meant by this, how much they cared about him. During the whole episode, Brock couldn't get the image of Ash and Misty kissing out of his head, and how much it related to what unfolded. He found himself leaning towards Jay and Delia's decision himself. But he couldn't tell Ash that . . . he wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he didn't feel like being on the bad end of his rage as well.

After a subdued pause, Brock sighed. "I think you'd better think about that, Ash. And I think you'd better be quiet and go to bed before there's even more trouble."

"Pika pika," Pikachu added softly.

Ash was silent. His troubled breathing resounded in the room as Brock and Pikachu looked on, worried and exhausted. Ash didn't feel the same way. He didn't want to sleep. No, not after what happened. Not without Misty there. He was going to take a stand. Maybe his parents would be convinced then. Maybe then they would see how much this hurt him, how much Misty's presence meant to him . . .

"Go to sleep, Ash," Brock said one last time. He got up and flicked off the light, leaving Ash standing in the embracing darkness. He didn't know how long he stayed there, thinking of what happened, but by the time he finally climbed to his bed and resentfully allowed himself to rest, Brock and Pikachu were already asleep.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

_Okay, it's purely a coincidence that they happened to be watching _The Music Man_ the same week the remake was aired on TV. Honest, I didn't plan for that to happen! LOL Though they weren't watching the remake here, they were watching the original and the best. No remake will _ever_ be superior to the classic movie! Well, in my opinion…_

_Thanks for reading everyone! And now I'm off to Spruceton for the weekend to go snow-tubing! Whoah-oh! See ya…_


	13. Late Night Chat

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 13

Late Night Chat

Ash couldn't sleep. Try as he might, he was unable to let himself settle down and encourage his body to relax. His heart raced unstoppably, making his limbs restless and his head dizzy. The blankets had become heavy and sizzling, and he kicked them off a little too violently than he should have, nearly pitching them over the side where they would have landed on Brock's head.

He didn't know how long he was like this. He never looked over to check the clock. He simply lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, engulfed in his embittered, perturbed thoughts. Every once and a while, he would throw a glance down to where Misty's bed had once been, and would turn away grievously. It wasn't right. An upwelling of anger, joined with an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret, would take him over completely, making the disaster that had ruined the night seem even more devastating.

__

I should've fought more, he kept lamenting over and over. He was disgusted with himself, fully convinced that if he had tried just a little more determinedly, things would have been different. Sure, it would have caused a hideous strife, resulting probably in more harsh words and furious back talking, resulting even _more_ in the increase of his parents' anger towards him, resulting in . . . well, stuff that most certainly _wouldn't _have been fun. But perhaps something good would have come out of it. Perhaps Misty would have been in his bedroom rather than in that damned sitting room.

But apart from all the raging thoughts and emotions flying through his brain, nothing compared to the empty sensation of loneliness that was wracking him. Even though Pikachu was snuggled warmly at his feet, and Brock was snoring softly just below, Ash felt alone, incomplete. His room became a dense, lacking atmosphere. Misty's absence, albeit only for a few hours, was unbearable.

__

This is so stupid, Ash grumbled as he sat up in bed. _I'm never gonna get to sleep like this._

He wanted to do something—anything that would rid this miserable change from being. Ideas had swarmed his mind since he'd first let his head touch the pillow. The urge to sneak over to the sitting room and see Misty was extremely tempting, but at the same time he didn't want to wake her if she was sleeping peacefully. This was only the least extreme of what he'd concocted in those long, contemplative hours, however. Underhandedly moving her bed back into his room during the night were among the aims, as well as sleeping on the lounge chair beside her or, which he was dreading but quite willing to do, go on a sleeping strike until his parents were forced to change their minds.

But Ash knew he would be taking a wild risk engaging in these rash operations. Just protesting his disapproval alone had created such uproar. And besides, who knew if Misty would even want to carry out these risks along with him? She hated being separated from him and Brock, Ash was sure, but she also had the keen mind to not defy his parents under any circumstances. Ash wondered how she could do it. Withstanding this separation was agonizing, and submitting to it without a fight he saw as remarkable. 

"Uggh!" he groaned out loud, swinging his legs out of bed. _I can't take it anymore. This sucks so_ _much!_

He needed something to drink. Maybe something to eat, too. He hoped it would help him grow tired and put an end to this awful night. As he climbed quietly down the ladder and tiptoed to the door, he wasn't sure how he would pass by the sitting room without going in to see Misty. He would have to, though. As much as he wanted to rebel against his parents' resolve, he didn't want another fight. He couldn't bear it right now.

The hallway was a deep world of solid blackness as he opened his door. He didn't feel like putting on any lights; his watery eyes weren't capable of enduring the bright assault. Placing his one hand flat on the wall as a way of guiding himself to the stairs, he ventured forward, his other hand stretching out haphazardly into the dusky oblivion.

"_Omigod!_" 

Ash's heart nearly ripped out of his chest as his wandering hand smacked into something hard, inducing both the terrified outcry that emerged from it and the staggering trip he made into the wall. It took a second for his alarm to subside, clearing his frightened mind.

"Misty? Is that you?" he faltered.

"Ash?" came the whimpering reply. "Oh my God, you scared the heck out of me!"

"Are you okay? Where are you?" Ash asked, letting his hand roam the dark for her. 

"I'm right here." She came forward, and their hands fumbled to join. His stomach settled as he felt her warm, shaky hand squeeze his.

"What's the matter?" he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"I can't sleep," she whispered back.

"Me neither. Come on, let's go downstairs so we can see each other."

"All right."

Holding her hand tightly, Ash led them through the dark, and flicked on the switch at the top of the staircase. The living room lit up dimly below, and squinting, the two finally allowed their eyes to meet. Neither could believe the wonderful feeling that cascaded through them as they smiled, the effect of the lonely hours lifting.

Misty plopped down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her and resting her drowsy head on the armrest. She was exhausted, but no matter what position she slept in, no matter how many pleasant things she tried to picture, sleep had been impossible. The uncomfortable fight and her new, secluded environment kept her mind torturously preoccupied. She glanced at the clock to note that it was nearing one A.M.

"I was coming down to get a drink," Ash said softly. She smiled up at him with her droopy eyes. "You want something?"

"Anything to help me calm down and sleep," she sighed longingly.

"You got it," Ash winked, shuffling into the kitchen. He was extra quiet as he opened the cabinet to get two tall glasses, which he carefully poured full of milk. He hoped the creamy beverage would generate slumber quickly, but as he thought of Misty sitting silently in the living room, brought there by something other than one of his crazy schemes, he wondered if the milk would be necessary anymore.

Misty looked like she had fallen asleep, but as he approached her, she lifted her head and sat up to accept her milk.

"Thanks, Ash," she yawned. 

"Welcome," he replied, then proceeded to quaff down half the glass. It was just what he'd craved, but not as much as having Misty beside him. He could barely take his eyes off of her as she drank, overjoyed that he was blessed with the answer to his wish. 

"So . . . you had trouble sleeping, too?" she asked, licking her lips of the white residue. 

Ash shook his head. "Like you would have no idea."

"Try me," Misty smirked. 

Ash smiled weakly. "This whole thing sucks," he said, retaining a bit of apology in his tone. "I can't believe my parents did this."

Misty looked down. "I know. At first I thought it wouldn't be so bad. I didn't want to move, but . . . the sitting room looked so comfortable, and I was so tired I thought I'd be asleep in no time." She chuckled in absurdity. "Didn't know how wrong I was."

"So you haven't slept at all?"

"Not one bit."

"Well, who can blame you?" Ash scoffed humorously. "Mom put you in that room with those freaky pictures."

This brought a wide smile to her face as the mood was instantly lightened. "That's not the reason!" She scrunched up her nose in playful insult. 

"Oh please, give me a break!" he laughed. "I hate those pictures! I swear, they're evil."

"Oh, they are not!"

"They are to!" Ash retorted with conviction. 

"Ash, they're your great-great-grandparents!" she grinned, as if that made a difference.

"So what? Doesn't mean they still aren't whacked out and ugly! Do you ever see _me_ go in there? Huh? Those things creep me out! They give me weird looks, Misty."

Misty had to do everything to hold back her laughter. "Well, you know," she said, cringing slightly, "after a while, the streetlight _did_ happen to shine directly on them, and they _were_ kinda staring right at me . . ."

Ash pointed at her crazily, jumping from his seat. "See! They're haunted! I told ya!" He shook his head with silly disgust. "And Mom put you in there!"

They both laughed, and rapidly tried to shush themselves as they feared they were too loud. The last thing they wanted was to wake everyone up and create another awkward battle. As they managed to taper off, however, the nonsense went right along with it, and downhearted seriousness set in once again.

"That's not the reason why I couldn't sleep, Ash," Misty said quietly. Her smile was gone. "I miss being with you guys."

Her sad tone made Ash blink somberly. "I miss having you in my room, too."

"It just feels so weird," Misty went on. "I guess . . . I guess I'm really used to knowing you guys are there, and that . . . I'm not alone."

"Same here," Ash said. He tucked his legs underneath him as well, hanging his head. "I kept looking down at where your bed was, and seeing it not there was so weird. It was almost like . . . like I was hoping it would just be there the next time I looked."

A small smile etched Misty's lips. "Awww, Ash." She reached out and tenderly rubbed his shoulder.

"Don't worry, though," he mumbled, eagerness seeping back into his doleful voice. "It won't be this way much longer. I'm not going to let my parents do this to us. It's not fair."

"I know it's not," Misty agreed, though hesitantly. "But . . . if this is what they want, then . . . then we really can't do anything about it."

Ash swallowed hard, and gazed firmly into her eyes. "Yes, we can. _I _can. They won't hear the end of it until they let you come back."

Misty sighed long and hard. Though she adored his determination, she could sense hardship on the way. It made her feel hopeless, fearing that no matter how hard they strove, there was no way her bed would ever end up in Ash's room again. Not with the reasons Delia and Jay had to back their purpose.

"I don't know," she said, leery. "Maybe we should wait a while on this."

Ash's face contorted with bafflement. "What? What do you mean wait a while?"

"Well," Misty responded, lingering as she thought of the right words to use. A jittery, little smile emerged. "Your parents . . . Ash, I _really_ don't think they want us sleeping in the same room anymore. I mean _really_."

Ash looked even more confused, then angry. "Well, I don't care what they don't want! It's so stupid, it just doesn't make sense to me! Why are they suddenly so dead-set about you not being with us? They never had a problem with us sleeping in the same room before. Mom especially! You've spent months in that room, and she never said a thing!"

Misty bit her lip. "I know, Ash, but . . ."

"It's just dumb, that's all it is," he declared, completely inattentive to the nervous, yet knowing, look displayed on her face. He looked down, disgruntled. "I don't know why they're doing this to us."

Twiddling her fingers, Misty stared at him, that fidgety look of hers hardly fading. "Um . . . you don't?" she squeaked. Ash shook his head.

Misty turned away for a moment. She wasn't exactly sure how she was going to disclose this to him—or even if he knew the answer to his own question, but was too afraid to admit it. 

"Ash." She paused as she waited for him to look at her. As he did, she smiled a bit tensely, taking a deep breath as she prepared to do this. "You _really _don't know why they're doing this? Why they're separating us?"

"No!" Ash shrugged, his eyes still narrowed with hostility. "If I did, I'd fix it!"

She had to restrain from laughing for that one. She bit furiously on her lip and looked away again, a flush of crimson sweeping across the bridge of her nose. 

"Ash, Ash, Ash," she said carefully as she turned back to him, holding out her hands in a way of getting him to focus. A bashful chuckle escaped her. "Come on now. You _seriously_ don't know why your parents don't want us in the same room together?"

Ash frowned; Misty's subtlety was starting to really bewilder him. "Misty, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Ash! Think!" she commanded frivolously. There was no way she could reveal this to him directly. He was going to figure this out on his own, whether it took all night or not. And if he didn't, it would just be plain scary, to say the least. 

Cocking his head, Ash fell into quiet thought, trying to cohere to what Misty was so obliquely insinuating. She just grinned at him, her eyes wide in expectancy, waiting for the light bulb above his head to click to life. 

And click to life it did. All of a sudden, Ash's eyes became as round as saucers, and his face promptly reddened to the color of a ripe tomato. With a leap backward, he gasped.

"You're kidding, right!?" he yelped, his voice begging her to ease his instantly alarmed mind. 

His blush induced Misty's to broaden rapidly. She simply shook her head.

Ash's hands flew to cover his face, and he curled himself up into a tight ball. Misty had to giggle inwardly at the sight. She knew this revelation was indeed shocking to him—and that was an understatement. 

"Oh my God!" he wailed from his knees, his words muffled. He looked up at her reluctantly, to which Misty gave him a shaky smile. "That . . . th-that's what they think!? _That's _why they separated us?"

Softly, she nodded, and Ash dumped his head back into his lap. He couldn't believe what he was dreadfully discovering. How could his parents think that way? How could they possibly imagine them going so far as to—

He couldn't think of it. He didn't want to! The thought of it alone made his mind spin, his stomach churn. It disgusted and utterly horrified him. 

"Ash," Misty said tenderly, ducking her head to see if she could see his face from behind his drawn-up knees. "Are you okay?"

Ash was quiet for a moment. "I will _never_ be okay. Never, ever again!" he moaned, his voice tottering and scarred. 

Misty smiled compassionately. "Aww, it's okay. It's not that bad."

"_Not that bad!?_" Ash exclaimed incredulously. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Misty, how could my parents _think_ that!? How could they think we would . . . we would . . . We—we're just _kids_! We would never _do _that!"

"I know, Ash, I know," Misty laughed, shaking his arms in attempt to comfort him. "Look, it doesn't necessarily mean that they think we're gonna do it."

"You just said that was the reason!" Ash choked. He was quickly turning pale, and Misty wouldn't have been surprised if he turned green next.

"Well, that's just part of it," she explained softly. "Ash, you know, it really isn't that appropriate for girls to sleep in the same rooms as guys. You're an only child—maybe that's why you don't understand, but . . . really, it's not that right. That's the _main _reason why your folks don't want us together. But especially now that we're boyfriend and girlfriend, it kinda . . . well, makes them worry that we might get some wrong ideas . . ."

"But we would never do that!" Ash cried desperately. "Not in a million years! Not never, ever, _ever! _That's gross!"

"Ash, calm down!" Misty giggled, delighting in his innocence. She feared his repulsion would wake the whole neighborhood if she didn't console him quickly. 

"I never even thought of us that way!" he continued, his voice wavering. It looked as though he was about to break into tears. 

"Neither have I," Misty agreed reassuringly. "And it's good that we think that way."

"Well, obviously my parents don't think like that. I can't believe it! That's just . . . _uggggggh!_"

"Oh, Ash," Misty sighed, resting her head on the trembling boy's shoulder and snuggling up against his warm body. "It's okay. Don't let it get to you." She smiled as she looked up at his twisted face. "I'm glad you think the way you do. You're a good person to think like that."

"Well, it's not that hard," Ash confessed. "It's gross—I don't _ever_ want to think about it!"

Misty smiled, and closed her eyes as she squeezed his arm. "Sure you do," she whispered. "Not now . . . but you will someday."

"No I won't," Ash said resolutely. "Never." 

Sitting up, she gazed affably into his eyes. "Well . . . you know . . . someday, a long time from now . . . we'll have kids." Ash braced as she said this. "Don't you want to have kids, Ash?"

He gulped hard, looking away for a moment awkwardly. "Sure I do . . . I guess," he finally answered inaudibly. 

Misty gave him a cheeky grin. "Well, we're gonna have to do that first, ya know, in order to get them," she murmured, her tone somewhat silly. She loved the way he squirmed noticeably at that.

"Yeah, guess you're right . . . But I'd rather not think about it until the time comes." 

Misty laughed, and to her joy, Ash achieved a wobbly grin. The troubling effect of the breakthrough was slowly starting to settle, but it posed no sign of leaving his head anytime soon. With each second, it replayed freshly and unwittingly in his mind, and Ash did everything he could to make sure he wasn't about to lose the milk he'd just ingested.

"Of course," Misty said reassuringly. "That's when we'll be married, and grown up. A long ways away. You don't have to worry about that now."

"Thank God," Ash breathed, sweatdropping. "I mean, I would like to have kids someday, but I'm happy with just kissing right now. I think that's about all I can handle!"

Misty beamed, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're so cute."

Ash's blush, which had finally dissolved, came back. His heart was beating, one overwhelming insight after another attacking his dumbfounded body. He didn't know how he was going to manage everything that had happened on this eventful night, but as Misty nuzzled closer to him, he suddenly felt dazed with contentment.

"Now if only we could convince my parents of that," he said.

Misty didn't take her head off his shoulder. "Mmm," she agreed.

Ash maneuvered his arm so that he could embrace her, and looked on wistfully. "I guess with the way they're thinking, though, nothing we say is going to convince them to let you come back."

"Well . . . maybe if we give it some time," Misty thought. "If we show them that we're not going to do anything wrong, maybe they'll let me come back. Just . . . give it some time."

Though it was a very efficient idea, Ash's spirits were raised none. "But I don't want to give it some time. I want it now."

Misty sighed sadly. "Me, too. But I don't think it's going to happen."

"Maybe if I talk to them calmly, they'll think about it. You know . . . not screaming my head off like a jerk like I did tonight."

She jabbed him humorously. "That might be a plan."

Ash breathed deeply. "I hope so. I mean . . . this is only one night. And look at us! I don't know how I'm going to take this for . . . however long it goes."

Misty looked down dejectedly, thinking of how hard it was for her, as well. "I'm sure we'll get used to it. If we have to adjust, then . . . we have to adjust."

__

Adjust. At that moment, Ash couldn't control the tears that pooled in his eyes. Thinking of the odds against them and the somewhat futile task they were prepared to take made it seem like one incredible nightmare. It wasn't engaging in the efforts to make things right he was afraid of, however; it was the very presumable chance that they weren't going to achieve success. And adjusting was something Ash didn't think he would be able to deal with.

"Misty," he said quietly, "I . . . I can't adjust."

She sighed. "I know, Ash. It's going to be hard. I know."

"No, but—you don't understand!" Ash said, lurching enough that Misty sat up. Her startled eyes met his glossy, wet ones. He bit his lip, turning it pure white. "I don't think this is something I can adjust to just like that. It . . . it's _more_." 

"What . . . what do you mean, it's more?" Misty asked, nervously intrigued.

"I mean . . . well," Ash stammered. It was difficult trying to find the best words to explain his predicament—it was like the walls inside of him were closing in, releasing waves of panic through his veins. "It's just that . . . I can't adjust to this, I can't accept it, because . . . because . . ." He shook his head violently. "Because someday it's really going to be like this, and I can't take it!"

He grit his teeth furiously as the last part came out, muffling it to an almost indecipherable outcry. The furor dripping from his words was enough to get Misty's heart pumping dreadfully.

"Ash! What are talking about? What do you mean, it's going to be like this someday?"

"You know what I mean," Ash sniffled. "Someday . . . it's not gonna be like this. You . . . you aren't going to be here anymore."

Misty's mouth dropped open, and she blinked. "What are talking about?" she asked fearfully again. 

"Don't you know?" Ash whispered, wincing. "Someday . . . someday we won't be able to do this anymore. You and me and Brock! We won't be together like this always!"

Shuddering in confusion, Misty forced a weak smile. "Of course we will, Ash," she contradicted.

"No we won't," Ash replied, his tone sounding almost shocked that she could deny something so true. "In a few years, w-we won't be together like this anymore. I mean, I . . . I'm gonna have to go back to school, and . . . you're gonna have to go back, too, o-or back to the gym! Brock, too. And—and when that happens . . . it won't be like this anymore. We won't be together! I won't . . . have you here anymore."

His pain-filled words made Misty freeze solid, her eyes glimmering with trauma. 

"That's why," Ash continued, gazing at her with sincere terror, "I don't think I can handle this. Misty, seeing your bed not there . . . it—it made me so scared! Because it reminded me that someday . . . it's going to be like that, and that I won't be able to do anything about it. I just . . . never realized how much I couldn't think of being in this house without you. Or being without you _period_."

"Ash," Misty managed to breathe, her hand extending to grab his.

"I don't ever want you to leave, Misty," he moaned, and her stomach fluttered. "Not my house, not my room. I don't want you to leave. But someday . . . you're gonna have to. And it's never going to be like this again."

Hot tears stung Misty's eyes, but unlike Ash, she didn't fight them. His distressed, reluctant speech made her body melt, overcome with equal blows of both sadness and blissful emotion. She couldn't believe how much he cared, how much her company meant to him. She wanted nothing other than to relieve him of this terrible dilemma, but at the same time, the surfaced account of what was to come impeded her drastically. To her dismay, it was all true—except for one thing.

"Oh, Ash," she whispered, pulling him in for a hug. Ash embraced back, burying his face into her shoulder. "Don't think about that now."

"I can't help it," he said. "Not having you in my room doesn't help make it go away. I can't stop thinking about you leaving!"

"Awww, don't worry about it," Misty cooed softly. "You're wrong—it _will_ be like this again someday."

Ash lifted his head. "It will?"

She smiled. "Sure it will! In a few years we're gonna have to go our separate ways, I know. It's nothing we can control. But that doesn't mean we'll never see each other again, Ash. You think I'm gonna let you get away that easily?" Relief soared through her as a small smile danced on his lips. 

"It might be hard going through those years, but it doesn't mean we won't still talk or hang out. And someday . . . after all that . . . we can be together like this for the rest of our lives."

Ash tilted his head. "You mean . . . we'll get married?"

Misty blushed furiously. "If that's what you want," she replied almost teasingly.

He paused for a moment, letting her words drift around in his mind. "I do want that. But I don't think I can wait for it."

Misty giggled, and wrapped her arms around him again. "Sure you can," she said upliftingly. "You'll be too busy becoming a Pokémon Master, anyway, won't you?"

At the mention of this, Ash's face not surprisingly brightened. "Yeah, you bet!" he replied, prospect finally peeking in his voice. Misty couldn't have been more pleased—she knew that would lighten the load.

"So, Mr. Pokémon Master, don't forget about me when you're off doing that, ya hear?" she playfully warned, poking his ribs. Ticklish, Ash laughed and wiggled away.

"I won't," he promised. He paused for a moment, millions of thoughts running through his head. He had to chuckle. "Wow, I can't believe all these things you're making me think about: being a Pokémon Master, getting married, having kids . . . the other _thing_ . . ."

Sticking his tongue out in complete distaste, Misty snickered in shock. "Hey, you shouldn't be thinking of that last thing!" she scolded, swatting his shoulder.

Ash's eyes widened in stupefaction. "What? It's because of you it's stuck in my mind! I'd give _anything_ for it to go away!"

It was an extreme difficulty to keep her increasing laughter in check. Her hands flew to her mouth to hold it in, but Ash wasn't doing any better. Their chortles went on for a good minute, mindless to everything but their fun. It was crucial to them at this point, temporarily ridding them of the adversities associated with the night.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on the stairs abruptly ceased their laughs. Flinching in surprise, the two exchanged a fearful look before turning towards the stairs, dreading who it might be. They simultaneously exhaled with relief as their visitor turned out to be no one but Brock, squinting tiredly at them.

"What are you guys doing down here?" he asked in a whisper. 

"Oh . . . nothing," Misty said, and she and Ash smirked at each other.

"Yup. Just talking about stuff," Ash added.

Brock reached up to rub his sleepy eyes. "But look at the time, guys." He beckoned for them to come forward. "C'mon, you're gonna wake everyone up. Go to bed."

"Okay," the two responded, jutting out their bottom lips in impish disappointment. They rose, and Ash quickly took their empty glasses to the kitchen. Brock was already up the stairs by the time Ash returned, and together, he and Misty ascended the stairs. They froze for a second before snapping the light off, listening to see if Brock was coming back out again. But upon hearing his covers rustle, they delightedly affirmed he was back in bed, and, without another moment of dawdling, leaned in to share a soft good-night kiss.

"See you in the morning, Ash," Misty said, waving to him as she departed for her room.

Ash waved back, then gave her a crafty wink. "Sleep tight. Don't let my grandparents bite."

The last thing he saw before shutting off the light was her eyes, widened with playful fright and looking ready to kill him for reminding her of those she "shared" a room with.

The next morning couldn't have been any more perfect. The sky was bright and clear, giving way to the brilliance of the summer sun, but it was not hot. The heat had broken days ago with a wild, but brief, thunderstorm, a relief to everyone. One was a little happier than the rest—Ash was finding it so hard to suppress his desire to train his Pokémon that he was literally jumping out of his skin. As soon as he stepped out and felt the low humidity and pleasant breezes associated with the wonderful day, a smile of pure bliss swept from ear to ear.

Misty and Brock wished to take advantage of the beautiful weather as well, and thus a full-blown Pokémon training and hunting excursion was planned. Just the thought of venturing out into the woods, if only for a day, and capturing new members for his team made Ash's troubles lift instantly. It had been such a long time since he'd done this, everything else going on in his life seemingly disappeared, Misty's forced departure from his room included.

By Misty's request that morning, Ash promised to not bring anything up about what happened the night before—both the confrontation and their late-night discussion. She didn't want any trouble, and Ash ardently agreed. As upset as he was, he wasn't in the mood for arguing. That, and he didn't care about anything but Pokémon at that moment. He just wanted to get out there, put everything behind him, and have a fun-filled day training and battling.

Unbeknownst to Ash, Delia didn't want to think about the events of the previous night, either. As she stood in the entranceway to the kitchen, quietly watching the three kids pack their bags for the excursion, her face was long and pensive. Ash hadn't spoken to her much that morning, but neither had she talked to him for that matter. She knew the reason behind his apathy, but she was certain he didn't know hers. 

With each minute, Delia felt more regretful for what she caused, her incentives for moving Misty sturdy or not. All that raided her conscience was her son's displeasure, his obvious gloom. She didn't want him to be upset, and knowing this was doing an emotional number on her. Seeing him all excited and happy over his day plans lifted her spirits a little, but she hated to see him go. After generating so much tension last night, she wanted the day to show him she wasn't out to hurt him or make him unhappy. She wanted to let him know she loved him.

But there was no way in the world she was going to deny him of his excursion or persuade him to stay home. The only thing allowing her to do this was the prospect of him returning that evening, where she would have a big, delicious dinner (pizza potpie, his favorite incidentally) and dessert awaiting him and his friends. Then she would spend the night with him however he wished: playing a game, watching a movie—she'd even watch _The Music Man_ with him if he wanted. Anything to knock down the hostile wall that had erected between them.

Ash zipped up his bag and swung it over his back, after which Pikachu found his common seat. He was all ready to go, and with the grin he had on from his antsy arranging, he glanced at his mom. With a smile, she stepped forward.

"You're gonna come home tonight, right, honey?" she asked sweetly.

Ash's smile faded a little, but he nodded. "Sure thing, Mom."

"We promise to bring him home safe," Misty said.

"Misty!" Ash grumbled, and she stifled a giggle.

Delia laughed, too, though it was choppy and weak. No matter how much she wanted him to go, she didn't. It was a feeling she couldn't shake.

"What time can I expect you home?" she inquired, hoping it would be early.

Ash looked at his feet, shrugging. "I dunno. Eight, I guess."

"We'll be home by eight," Brock repeated more decidedly, shifting his backpack.

"Okay," Delia agreed, reaching out to pinch Ash's chin. He inhaled tensely but accepted her affection. She bent down to his level. "Be home on time, okay? I'll have supper all hot and ready for you—something nice I think you'll like."

Her son reluctantly met her eyes. "'Kay. I'll be home."

"And besides . . . I worry about you, journey or no journey," she added softly, giving his cheek a kiss. "I like you home before it's dark."

"All right, all right, I'll be home," Ash said, turning before rolling his eyes. "You don't have to worry, Mom."

He started out the door, and Delia's face fell again. _Aren't I gonna get a good-bye? _"Bye, son."

Ash turned, and with a bit of strength, produced a small smile. "Bye." He then turned to Misty and Brock and his voice promptly livened. "C'mon, guys, let's go!"

"Okay," Misty jumped briskly after him. "Bye, Mrs. Ketchum."

"Bye," Brock smiled, giving her a wave.

"Bye, kids. Have fun," she replied, waving back. She didn't know how long she stood there looking at the closed door after they left, fighting back tears.

"Wow, what a day!" Misty groaned tiredly, collapsing on the soft patch of grass beneath her.

"You can say that again," Ash said, smiling in agreement. "I waited too long for this. Brock, chips."

"Mmm hmm." Brock, his mouth full, handed the bag of potato chips to Ash. Despite the sandwiches they'd consumed only a few hours ago, Ash was famished. A full day of training and practice battles had left him utterly, but happily, worn out. The same went for Misty and Brock, as well as their Pokémon. Though they hadn't encountered any wild Pokémon, the day had certainly not been a waste: after all the exercising and vigorous work he'd put his Pokémon through, Ash was convinced they were as fit as ever.

Now, as the evening sun was descending in the orange sky, they were settled comfortably under the shade of a towering tree, getting one last relaxing rest with nature before heading back home. 

"It was really good that we did this," Brock said, finally swallowing. "Our Pokémon needed it."

"I know what you mean," Ash replied. "I was starting to think my Pokémon were getting suspicious since we haven't been in any real matches lately."

"Pikachu!" Pikachu smiled proudly, butting his head softly into Ash's side. 

Ash laughed. "I know _you_ weren't getting suspicious, Pikachu. I'm talking about the others." Pikachu chirped affably and climbed onto Ash's lap. He was exhausted from all the drills throughout the day, and curled up to a welcoming ear-massage from his trainer.

"We really should be heading home soon, guys," Brock said in passing, popping another chip into his mouth.

"I don't ever want to get up," Misty responded, still sprawled out. She sighed happily. "It's so peaceful and beautiful here."

"I know," Ash said, then looked up at the reddening sky. "But it is getting late."

"We should really start off now," Brock suggested, though his voice spoke otherwise. It was easy to tell he had no ambition to get up, either. "We have a good fifteen-minute walk back . . . maybe more. We don't want to be late for dinner."

At the sound of that, Ash's stomach rumbled. Dinner sounded too good to be true—especially since he'd gotten the gist of what it would be from his mother's enticing ambiguity. "You're right. Come on, Pikachu, off. We gotta go. You too, Misty. Get up."

Pikachu hopped off, but Misty remained. Ash laughed, and playfully pretended to give her a swift kick. Misty screamed and instinctively rolled away to protect herself, then leapt up and swung at him, not finding his prank the least bit funny. Brock rolled his eyes as he gathered up their belongings and the snacks while the two chased each other around. 

Suddenly, the sound of rustling bushes was heard, and all movement came to a standstill. Ash and Misty's eyes widened, Brock froze in the process of rolling the bag of chips up, and Pikachu's ears and tail perked. Ash noticed this excitedly.

"What is it, Pikachu?" he whispered, just as twigs snapping sounded again. His face immediately brightened when he saw sparks of caution sizzle from Pikachu's cheeks. "What's over there?"

Hearing the evident thrill in his voice, Misty moaned. "Ash, come on. It's late now, forget about it."

Ash ignored her, the smile on his face growing as the impending approach of a Pokémon stimulated his nerves again. Finally! It was about time they ran into something, and he wasn't prepared to let this one go without a battle. His friends thought differently, however.

"Ash, leave it alone," Brock advised. "We don't have time to battle; we gotta get home. Just let it go."

"I'm not gonna let it go!" Ash exclaimed, hopping on his toes. "Whatever it is, I'm gonna catch it! Just give me a minute!"

"Aaasssh," Misty groaned again, but he just waved her away.

"You ready for this, Pikachu?" he asked his Pokémon. "You're not too tired?"

"Pika!" Pikachu replied determinedly, his ears flattening against his head in emphasis. Ash beamed, adrenaline surging through his body. 

"All right then!" He pointed at the area of bushes whence the rustling had come. He couldn't see anything, but there was certainly something over there, something that Ash was sure would be in his Pokéball in just a moment's time. "Let 'er rip!"

"Pika_chu_!" 

Misty and Brock stood back and held their breaths as Pikachu let off a massive thunderbolt, crackling and dancing towards the bushes. It hit its mysterious target dead-on, as the electricity hissed with contact and a loud roar of pain intruded the tranquil setting. Pikachu halted his attack and looked on alertly, while Ash let out a victorious cry. 

"You got it, Pika—_whoa!_" 

Suddenly, the creature lurched from the bushes, abruptly ending Ash's ecstatic praise and replacing it with a startled yelp.

"Holy . . .!" Brock muttered, eyes wide and stumbling backwards. Misty let out a piercing screech of shock, grasping Togepi fearfully to her chest and retreated back with Brock. 

Ash just stared. Before him, on all fours, crouched a burly beast, its brown fur scorched from the toasty residue of Pikachu's successful attack, its eyes narrowed with burning animosity. It was heaving, and Ash let his trembling eyes wander, taking in its bent-back ears and razor-sharp claws. The only aspect that had yet to be exposed was its enormous height, that of which it achieved as the Ursaring rose on its hind legs, and pinned back its lips to bare its mouth of knifelike teeth.

"Ash!" Misty shrieked, her voice shrill with fright. "Come back, hurry!"

Ash gulped as the imposing Pokémon glared down at him, very obviously displeased with the rude awakening. But aside from its threatening rage, Ash was amazed, the strength and beauty of such a creature getting him motivated once again. He needed this one. Balling his fists and gritting his teeth, he pointed fearlessly at the Ursaring.

"Pikachu, thundershock!" he commanded, and with a passionate battle cry, Pikachu obeyed, sending another wave of electricity in the Ursaring's direction. It hit again, and it growled and retracted from the attack. It was definitely making an impact, and Ash was enthralled.

"You're doing good, Pikachu! One more oughta do it!" 

"Pikachu!" he replied, and prepared another attack. 

The Ursaring had quite enough, however. Before Pikachu had a chance to even create enough electricity for a minor assault, the bear launched forward, its mighty arms raised to retaliate. Ash cried out and sprung away from its advance, shocked that it had made such an unexpected move. He could only watch in horror as Pikachu, taken quite by surprise as well, found himself on the receiving end of a powerful swipe. He was knocked airborne, soaring a good twenty feet before skidding to a halt on the rough ground.

"_Pikachu!_" Ash howled, matched with Misty and Brock's cries. "No!"

They rushed quickly to the wounded Pokémon's side. Torturous thoughts of regret flew through Ash's head as he saw his precious friend lying still in the dirt. Pikachu had been too tired, too weak—why'd make him battle? But he had no time further to think about it. Before they barely reached Pikachu, the Ursaring let off another thundering roar. Ash, Misty, and Brock spun to face it just as it bound towards them with look of undeniable rage.

Letting off a earsplitting scream, the kids ran, Ash swooping to pick up Pikachu and nearly stumbling in the process. The Ursaring's menacing chase was no joke—its peace was disturbed, and it was beyond mad now. 

"The bags!" Brock shouted, pointing towards their neat pile of backpacks ahead. As they ran past at full speed, they haphazardly made grabs for one, regardless if it was theirs or not. Miraculously, they got them all, never slowing. They then ran for dear life, the enraged brute charging behind.

"Ash, I told you to leave it alone!" Misty screeched. "Why didn't you just listen to us!?"

"How was I supposed to know this would happen?" Ash shot back, cradling Pikachu to his chest with one hand and holding the strap of his bag in the other. It smacked against his retreating legs violently. 

"You weren't, but we wouldn't be running for our lives if you'd just _listened!_" she cried. Her voice was high in fatigue and panic.

"Mis_ty!_"

"Guys, shut up! Just run!" Brock yelled, turning to see that the Ursaring was not that far behind. He fumbled with the zippers to his bag, frantic to get one of his Pokéballs out—any one—to help them, but to no avail. 

"Ash, send another Pokémon!" he demanded. "Hurry, you have to!"

"I can't!" Ash replied despairingly. "I worked them harder than Pikachu! They'll never be able to fight!"

"We don't have time! Just run!" Misty wailed, clutching crying Togepi tightly.

The Ursaring roared behind them again, sending chills up the kids' spines and working their legs faster. Through the trees and bushes they darted, hurdling rocks and other obstacles, praying they wouldn't trip. This wasn't scary anymore—it was terrifying. They had no idea where they were headed or what they would come across; they just ran. A serious calamity was taking place, and they had no time to plot out their choices.

"Why won't it just leave us alone?" Ash said. "I didn't even try to catch it! Why is it so mad!?"

"Ash, you had Pikachu attack it two times!" Misty shrieked. Her legs were like rubber, but she kept at it. "I'd be mad, too!"

Ash cringed. "I . . . I can't keep running like this!"

Suddenly, Brock's eyes widened. "Look! Over there!" He pointed towards a rock formation in the distance, a sharp crack split through it, creating what appeared—and they hoped—to be a small cave.

"It's a cave!" Misty announced, a smile of relief emerging on her lips. She was gasping for air now, her words hard to make out.

"All right!" Ash rejoiced. 

He was lagging now, his legs aching with pain, his arm numb from the weight of his swinging bag. He was about ready to collapse, but as the salvation of the cave loomed, he made one last effort. His legs worked harder, but his arm was finished. Inadvertently, just as they made it to the rock formation's clearing, the strap slipped between his fingers, and the backpack fell to the ground.

"My bag!" he blared, halting.

"ASH!" Misty and Brock bellowed simultaneously, looks of horror flashing across their faces.

"Don't stop! Come on!" Misty yelled.

"Leave it!" Brock commanded, taking hold of the boy's arm and yanking him to follow. Ash cast one last reluctant look at his abandoned bag as he ran towards the cave. At least he hadn't dropped Pikachu.

It was only when they reached the cave that they discovered how appropriate it would be to label it otherwise. It was more than just small and tight—it was impossible, but the three crammed frenetically into it. It was more like a diminutive dugout, but they all fit in—barely. Brock was shoved to the back, Misty next, and Ash packed against her. Pikachu was sandwiched between his knees and chest. Thankfully, the cave went back further than it was wide, and Brock slid in as far as he could go, allowing a good deal of space to form between Ash and the outside world. 

They watched silently as the Ursaring approached, but to their confusion, no longer was its attention focused on them. Ash's innards tightened as he watched the growling Pokémon near his fallen bag.

"What's it doing?" Misty asked.

"It smells the food," Brock answered. 

The Ursaring lowered its head to sniff at Ash's bag, and did that for quite a few seconds. Though he didn't want to be the subject of the creature's next sniffing-out, Ash willed it to leave his bag alone. There wasn't any food in there anyway—just empty sandwich bags. 

__

Come on, he told it. _Just sniff it and walk away. Please! _

Leaving it alone was the last thing the Ursaring did. Ash held his breath as the bear grasped the bag in his jaws and held it down with his paw. With a fierce jerk, the sound of material ripping drilled his ears. 

"No!" Ash cried through gritted teeth. "My bag!"

"Oh boy," Brock groaned.

The Ursaring repeated, seizing another part of the backpack in his teeth and tearing with all its might. Ash could only helplessly watch as his bag was being shredded and destroyed, pieces of its green material tossed from the Pokémon's mouth to the ground like rags. 

"It's tearing apart my bag!" he whimpered. 

The Ursaring simply licked its fangs and went for more, and little by little, Ash's belongings began to litter the ground.

"So let it!" Misty replied. "At least it's not tearing _us_ apart!"

"But . . . but . . . !" Ash stammered, turning pale. 

The Ursaring grabbed the bag and shook it about, flinging out Ash's sweatshirt and a book of some sort. It looked at the items impassively and went back to chewing on the bag. Ash let out another whine, reaching out longingly.

"You don't have any of your Pokémon in there, right?" Brock suddenly asked, panic in his voice.

Ash shook his head, swallowing the huge lump in his throat. "No, but I have my . . ."

The Ursaring slung the bag again, and a large, red object clunked to the ground. Finally, the bag dropped from the Pokémon's mouth, as its interest was now directed at Ash's Pokédex. 

"No, leave it alone!" Ash shouted, only to have his mouth covered promptly by Misty and Brock's hands.

"Ash, quiet!" Misty ordered.

"Don't bring it over here!" Brock said.

Sniffing the foreign item, the Ursaring bat Dexter with his paw. Ash thought he was going to pass out as the expensive device rolled a few times against the hard ground, opening in the process. Engaged, the bear pranced over to it again and gave it another rough rap, sending it skidding again. 

"No . . . !"

The Ursaring took another whiff of it, and the Pokédex sprang to life.

"_Ursaring, the evolved form of Teddiur-ur-ur-ur-ur—_"

Dexter's words were mangled hideously as the Ursaring took the apparatus in its mouth and chomped down on it hard. It sputtered and choked with unintelligible jumble amidst the sound of shattering plastic.

"Oh my _GOD!_" Ash sobbed, his precious gadget meeting its appalling end. He clutched at his chest, as he was certain he was about to have a heart-attack. "Leave it alone!"

At that, he tried to spring from the protection of the cave to save whatever was left, but Misty and Brock held him back. It was enough, though, to grab the Ursaring's attention. Dexter dropped from its mouth and it roared ferociously, making a lunge at the cave. They managed to pull him back just as the Pokémon made a harrowing swing at them with its claws. Ash, Misty, and Brock cloistered as far back as they could into the narrow enclosure, cringing, barely out of harm's reach. Finding it could do no more with its prisoners, the Ursaring returned to playing with its new toy. 

"But my Pokédex!" Tears pooled in Ash's eyes.

"Stop it, Ash!" Brock said. He shook his head. "It's beyond hope now."

"Yeah . . . m-maybe if it likes that, it'll go and leave us alone," Misty said with a tad of rash optimism in her voice.

However, after ten minutes of making sure Dexter was unquestionably in as many pieces as it satisfyingly desired, the Pokémon reclined outside the cave. The smashed remains of the Pokédex and Ash's tattered backpack lay forgotten in the clearing. The kids uttered not a word as the Ursaring sniffed the air, groaning with hunger. They dared not move. They dared not breathe. They were trapped, and the sun was slowly disappeared behind Pallet's rolling mountains.

Night was setting in.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

Hey, I had to get those kids out of the house. And I needed a new opportunity to torture Ash. And for once I wanted to add a Pokémon into the mix. And . . . well, this is a vital part of the story, you'll see. ~_^

Thanks for reading everyone! It's going to get real _tense from here on . . . _


	14. Escape

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 14

Escape

"I can't believe this," Misty grumbled, shaking her head. "I just can_not_ believe this."

"Tell me about it," Ash replied sullenly. He sat slouched over, gazing out sadly at his strewn, ravished belongings and the monstrous, napping Pokémon that had been the cause of it all. "I didn't know Ursaring lived in the Pallet area."

Misty face promptly reddened. "That's not what I'm talking about!" she fumed, punching him viciously in the arm. Ash shrieked loudly.

"Misty! Come on, that hurt!" 

"Well, you deserve it!" she barked, shooting him daggers with her eyes. "If it weren't for you and your dumb urge to catch every stupid Pokémon we ran into, we wouldn't _be_ in this mess!"

Brock groaned. His head was in his hands. "Guys, chill out," he said, only to be ignored.

"Would you stop blaming me for this?" Ash begged, still rubbing his arm where Misty had socked him. "It's not my fault!"

Misty gave him a look. "Oh yeah, that's right, I forgot," she snorted sarcastically. "It's _Brock's_ fault, now I remember!"

Ash sighed, "Misty, that's not what I meant . . ."

"Ash, just shut up, okay?" she said angrily. "Instead of blabbering off your mouth, why don't you think of ways to get us outta here!?"

"Don't you think that's what I'm doing!?" he shot back, balling his fists. 

Her fury wasn't helping things at all. After being trapped in the confined, stuffy cave for nearly half-an-hour now, Ash couldn't bear another moment of it. Not only was he devastated over the loss of his Pokédex (he was no longer capable of looking at the remains as it brought immediate tears) and afraid of the hungry, incensed Pokémon probing their every move, but he was hurt by Misty's overt annoyance at him. Thinking of feasible ways of escape was nearly impossible at this point—he wasn't in the right mind to do so.

Not that he didn't try. Release was the only thing he wanted, which was also easily said for Misty and Brock. As the evening faded into night, and the first stars were beginning to splash the sky, the panic increased. It wasn't because they were fearful of spending the night in the woods—that they were, of course, accustomed to, but the scary predicament they were in wasn't something routine. All Ash wanted to do now was go home. He was shaking over the events of the last hour: the chase, the fear, Pikachu, the upsetting destruction of one of his most prized possessions.

Who cared about all the heartache and trouble his mother had caused the night before? Ash wanted nothing more than to fall into her arms and cry on her shoulder.

"Ash, please," Misty said. She was still evidently disgruntled. "Please tell me you can send one of your Pokémon out. _Please_."

"I would love to say that I could," Ash replied tartly. "I would also love to believe that my completely _worn out_ Pokémon can defeat a seven-zillion ton, mad Ursaring."

Misty narrowed her eyes at his asinine banter. "Well then, what other ingenious ideas do you have, Mr. Know-It-All? Huh? How are we gonna get out of here!?"

Ash growled petulantly. "Why don't _you_ think of something to get us out of here, if you're so smart?"

"I _could_," Misty snapped arrogantly, "but this is your mess you got us into, Ash Ketchum, and you're gonna get us out of it!"

As her voice peeked loudly at that, the Ursaring suddenly stirred and shot a nasty look into the cave. Ash, Misty, and Brock instinctively withdrew as far back as they could, but it seemed the Pokémon had no interest to seek out its current engrossment. It simply yawned, baring its glistening teeth, and found its comfortable position once again. 

Ash spun and glared at Misty. "You woke it up," he accused directly.

"You _brought_ it here," Misty retorted, and quite honestly.

"I wanted to catch it! Give me a break already!"

Misty crossed her arms. "I won't give you a break! This is all your fault; we could be home right now!"

Ash grit his teeth. "I know," he said, thinking of how late it had become. It was way past eight now, and as nonchalant as he'd acted towards his mother, he never had any intentions of breaking the curfew and worrying her. He would've given anything to be home right now.

Thinking about this, he tried to work his brain harder. His Pokémon, beyond doubt, were unable to battle. They probably could have gone out there and made an effort, but Ash knew it was taking a serious risk. The same went for Misty and Brock's Pokémon, save for Togepi, but Ash didn't considerate that any further. Pikachu was no longer unconscious from taking the terrible blow, but he was unquestionably in need of medical attention. He was breathing rather peculiarly, and Ash planned to do nothing more with him until Professor Oak looked him over.

Which, needless to say, Ash was not looking forward to. Just picturing the look on the professor's face upon finding out about the busted Pokédex made Ash shudder with nervousness. If not for Pikachu, he wondered how long he would have avoided telling him, and even worse, requesting for a new one. _If_ he would give him a new one. 

"_Well?_" Misty asked. "What did you think of?"

Ash took a deep breath to quell his increasing vexation. "Nothing yet."

Misty sat up brusquely, almost hitting her head against the slanted wall of the cave. "I'm not spending the night in this cave, Ash! I want to go home, and I want to go home _now!_" 

"Don't you think I want that, too?" Ash returned, his voice wobbling. It was beginning to be too much for him.

"Obviously not, if you haven't gotten any ideas yet!"

"You should be thinking, too!"

"No, I shouldn't!"

"Yeah, you should!"

Brock had quite enough by that time. His hands had traveled up to cover his ears, but it still didn't drown out their bickering. As their fiery outrage shot back and forth, he couldn't take it anymore. He was going to go out of his mind.

"Oh, would you two please shut your mouths for two seconds!?" he bellowed. "For God's sake, just please—_please!_—go back to kissing and stop _fighting!_"

This abruptly brought an end to Ash and Misty's quarrelling. There was a moment of dead, thick silence as they turned incredulously towards Brock, their jaws dropping to the ground.

For once, Misty's narrowed eyes were directed elsewhere. "What did you say?" she demanded sharply.

Brock drew back, a goofy face replacing his irked one. "Um, nothing," he replied, sweatdropping.

"Don't tell me _nothing!_ I know what you said!" Misty roared. "What've you seen, Brock?" Suddenly, her tone became anxious, and matched with Ash's flustered complexion, Brock felt like crawling even deeper into the cave. He couldn't believe he'd just said that, but aware that there was nothing else he could do about it, decided to straighten bravely.

"I've seen you two kiss," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders casually. 

"You—? What—? _How!?_" Misty stammered, flabbergasted. Ash, in the meantime, had paled to the color of his bed sheets.

Brock smiled softly. "Look, don't go crazy. I saw you kiss the other day." The smile grew into a grin. "It was cute!"

"What do you mean, cute?" she shrieked. "What were you doing spying on us, Brock?"

"I wasn't spying on you!" he defended himself, still in a mellow fashion. "I just happened to walk up and see you kissing. I didn't know you were doing that!"

"Where?" Misty asked frantically, still unwilling to accept it. "Where could you have possibly seen us kiss?"

"The other day, when you two were out front. You know, before the barbecue?" To say the least, Brock felt relieved to finally let this go. He knew he wouldn't have been able to hold the secret much longer, especially since he no longer looked at his two friends the same way.

Ash, however, felt like fainting. "What!?" he gasped, turning to Misty with a frenzied look in his eyes. "See! I _told_ you we shouldn't've done it there! I told you someone was going to see us!"

Misty's glare burned back at Ash. "Yeah, well how was I supposed to know Brock would be spying on us like a jerk?"

"Hey, wait a sec," Brock started, unsuccessfully trying to butt in.

"I told you I didn't want to do it there!" Ash replied strongly, his mortified voice easily outmatching Brock's. "I _knew_ someone was going to see us, I knew it!"

Misty's shock quickly returned to resentfulness. "Well, you know what? I don't care if he saw us! He was going to find out soon anyway!"

"But—but!" Ash sputtered, "I didn't want him to find out now! Oh man, that's so embarrassing!"

Misty's face reddened irritably. "Oh, so kissing me is _embarrassing?_"

Ash slapped his forehead, instantly regretting what he said. "I didn't mean it that way, Misty," he cringed. "I meant—"

"Look, I don't care what you meant!" Misty sneered. She was seconds away from getting up and marching out of the cave, Ursaring or no Ursaring, she was so fed up. "I'm just—I'm not even talking to you anymore. I've had it!"

"Well—well _fine then!_" Ash retorted stubbornly. "I'm not talking to you anymore, either!"

"Fine!" Misty huffed, and the two promptly turned their backs on each other.

Brock looked sheepishly at the two, slightly amused at what he had caused. It hadn't ended the ongoing clash, but at least they had shut up for the moment. Unfortunately, of course, there was a slight downside to them being immersed in their own bitterness—it had suddenly grown a bit boring, and thus happened to be the grand opportunity for fun Brock couldn't resist.

"So . . ." he grinned. "Can you kiss now?"

Ash and Misty shot him glares that no other person would dare mess with. "No!" they both answered quite firmly, tossing their heads again.

"Oh, c'mon!" Brock persuaded, getting jumpy with excitement. "Please? Just a little one?"

"NO!" the two bellowed, enough this time to send their enlivened friend into a state of wise caution.

"Fine . . . okay," he gave in, holding his hands up in peaceful surrender. "Geez, you two are touchy."

"I'm not touchy," Misty said disdainfully. "There's _no way_ I'm kissing him. Not until he gets us out of this mess!"

"I told you, I'm thinking!" Ash grumbled. 

"Well, think faster!"

"I will!"

Brock perked. "So you mean you'll kiss as soon as we get out of here?" Misty's eyes lowered to threatening slits as she gave him the most ominous look of death. He shrunk back, cringing neurotically. "Okay, maybe not."

Suddenly, Misty growled loudly. "Oh my God, get me _outta here! _I can't take it anymore!"

Ash and Brock reeled back. Togepi, who had been sitting on his trembling trainer's lap enduring the ear-splitting revolt going on to the best of his weak ability, leapt off and retreated behind the disheveled, resting Pikachu with a squeal of alarm.

"Misty, chill out already!" Brock exclaimed, startled at her impatience. "You're scaring Togepi!"

His tone forcefully sedated Misty's vehemence, but not her restless breathing. "I'm sorry, but . . ." She shook her head exasperatedly. "But I just wanna get out of here! How . . . how long is that—that _thing_ going to be outside?"

"I don't know," Brock replied. "But it can't be out there for long." He took a deep breath as he glanced out towards the creature, attaining a contemplative look as he desperately tried to invoke ideas of what to do.

"He's right," Ash said. "Sooner or later, it'll figure out that we aren't going to come out."

"Either that or it'll be out there long enough for our Pokémon to get their energy back," Brock said matter-of-factly. 

The hopefulness of such a statement enticed Misty's interested gaze. "How long do you think that'll be, Brock?"

Brock ground his teeth noticeably. "I don't know. An hour . . . maybe an hour and a half. It depends, really. I'm sure one of our Pokémon will have some sort of strength to at least scare it away."

Her lip quivering, Misty stole a glimpse at the Ursaring. Togepi stared attentively at her, detecting her anxiety. Through all the commotion, he was rendered silent, struck with indescribable fear. The harsh change in actions was too much for him to handle: one minute they were out romping and having fun; the next, relaxing in what the small Pokémon deemed bliss; the next, running as danger loomed just a stride behind them. 

But nothing bothered Togepi more than the distress illuminating from Misty's pale face. Looking at her now, his body constricted with immense dread. Something wasn't right; Misty never looked this hopeless.

"I mean," Brock went on, "I'm sure Onix can do something. I don't think it worked _that_ hard."

"Yeah, but Totodile defeated it in the mock battle we had, remember?" Ash pointed out despondently. "It might still be shaken up by that."

"Yeah, you might be right," Brock admitted.

"I guess I can send out Chikorita . . . though . . . she did look very tired," Ash said, his voice lowering. "Maybe Noct—no . . ."

"I don't even know what's strong against Ursaring," Brock said. 

"And we can't even find out, either," Ash added, grief washing over him as he thought of his Pokédex again.

"Oh, this is awful," Misty lamented. "Why did we have to work _all _of our Pokémon today?"

At the sound of her deplorable voice, Togepi edged forward, reaching out to touch Misty. Hearing her this way troubled him too much.

"Because none of them've gotten any exercise in _weeks_," Brock replied, though they all knew the answer. "We had to . . ."

"All we gotta do is give it time," Ash whispered, swallowing hard. He turned towards Misty, his shimmering eyes locking into hers. "Just give it time."

She inhaled, those four words aversely resurfacing again. She had heard them too much in the past twenty-four hours, full of hope but not of promise. Misty cast a yearning look out the cave, her fierce desire for freedom calling out with her glazed eyes and hanging frown. 

"I don't want to give it time," she whimpered.

"I know," Brock said quietly. "But I don't think we have a choice."

Misty felt the inevitable urge to cry coming on, and allowed it. Togepi's regard never left her, and as the salty tears made their grim presence in the corners of his forlorn trainer's eyes, he chirped softly, his faint, little voice easily overlooked.

"But . . . we have to . . ." Misty started, her hand resting ignorantly atop Togepi's head. "We have to . . . I mean, I wish . . . I just wish . . ."

"Just wished what, Misty?" Ash asked, his eyes never leaving the Ursaring.

Misty shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "I just . . . wished we had a Pokémon to help us. That's all."

Ash and Brock said nothing. Hopes and wishes weren't going to do them any good in the plight of reality they were entrapped in now. Solutions were what they needed, but didn't have. They all knew it, and unwillingly resigned to it. 

All but one, however.

Togepi didn't need to understand any of the foreign language transpired to know there was no solution to the grisly situation they were currently in. There was no glimmer of hope in any of the humans' eyes—just the dull look of anguish. It was dark, but they weren't in the beds they were normally in every night—they were stuffed severely between two hot, moist slabs of rock, sweating, dirty, tousled, and unhappy. There was a large beast blocking the entrance, that of which Togepi knew without a doubt to be of the unfriendly type. It was because of this brute they were here, bringing Misty such sorrow, inducing her tears. 

The tiny Pokémon didn't need any other influence to know what had to be done. Aside from all the confusion, he wanted to go home more than anything; that, and have Misty be happy again. It frightened him so to see her in such a state, and without another moment of delay, began to evoke his power. Togepi needed more than just carefree arranging this time—he wanted that monster away from them, far, far away; far from where it would hurt them, bring them panic, make Misty sad. 

His recurring chant went on for a few seconds before any one of the kids picked up on what was happening. They were quiet, trying to come up with some inkling of a plan to get them home. Misty still had her hand planted softly on her Pokémon's head, unobservant to the slight but consistent movement he was making. Togepi didn't care for anyone to know what he was doing, inadvertently mysterious. His concentration was set on the Ursaring, the source of their misfortune, soon to be eradicated from their presence and sent somewhere it could bother them no more.

Brock was the first to notice. Simply lowering his eyes and setting them incidentally on the chirruping Togepi, his brow furrowed.

"Hey! What's wrong with Togepi?" 

"Huh?" Ash and Misty uttered, averting their attentions to the Pokémon. By then, Togepi was fully engaged in his summoning, and his power was swiftly augmenting. The two younger kids' eyes widened with disbelief.

"Togepi?" Misty asked delicately, picking him up and holding him before her. He did not intermit; he kept his bantam arms swaying, his focus firm.

"What's he doing?" Ash wondered.

"I think . . ." Brock cocked his head. 

"Togepi, what . . . ?" Misty squeaked worriedly. 

"Prii!" With that, a brilliant flash of light illuminated the cave, and the three kids gasped. They gaped quizzically at Togepi, who opened his eyes and trilled with excitement. 

"Togepi, what were you doing?" Misty was finally able to ask, her astonishment hardly fading. 

"Um . . . guys? You're not gonna believe this," Ash said skeptically. Misty and Brock spun around, and their jaws promptly dropped.

The space the Ursaring had been resting just seconds ago was now vacant. The very last remnants of daylight revealed an unoccupied clearing and Ash's dispersed belongings, but no Ursaring, no sign of any living thing. 

"Wh-wh-where did it go?" Misty stuttered.

"It's just . . . _gone!_" Brock exclaimed. 

Ash poked his head out of the cave, and cautiously surveyed the area. Expecting to see that the Ursaring had simply rose and meandered off, he was shocked to see it was gone—vanished. Almost like it had disappeared without a trace . . .

"What just happened?" he asked, his eyes filled with wonder as he turned back to Misty and Brock.

They glanced back at him, but slowly, their eyes descended to Togepi. The little Pokémon was smiling as usual, his innocent, sprightly nature invariable. Misty was dumbfounded.

"I . . . I think . . ." she began with amazement.

"I think Togepi just got rid of that Ursaring," finished Brock, his words leaden with dubiousness.

Misty couldn't believe what she was hearing. She gazed questioningly into Togepi's face. "Togepi . . . did you . . . did you really?"

"Tokiprii!" he replied ecstatically.

Ash, Misty, and Brock were speechless. For a moment, the fact that the Ursaring was gone was hardly of their concern. They stopped breathing, stunned with fabulous disbelief. 

"So you're saying," Ash said mystically, "Togepi just used an attack?"

"I would say so," Brock answered emphatically.

"Togepi, I can't believe it . . ." Misty whispered with awe, gawking at her delighted Pokémon. She would have continued to do so if Ash hadn't suddenly grabbed her by the arm, abruptly bringing her back down to earth.

"Come on," he cried. "We can figure that out later. The coast is clear! We have to get out of here!"

The words Misty had been dying to hear were nearly insignificant now. While Ash grabbed Pikachu and stumbled out of the cave, she paused, too overwhelmed with shock. A tender push from Brock was what she ultimately needed to get her to finally pry her eyes off Togepi and out towards the wonderful feeling of release. 

And what a wonderful feeling it really was. Finally able to take a breath of fresh air, and not having Brock's knee jammed into the small of her back, Misty smiled, though it was shaky with anxiety. She would enjoy this freedom, but not until they were well on their way home. She couldn't stand another moment in this accursed forest.

Ash, in the meantime, rushed over to inspect the damage done to his poor possessions. For a minute, he just stared helplessly at them, biting back his dismayed tears and embracing Pikachu in his arms. It wasn't fair. He couldn't count the number of pieces left to his Pokédex, but slowly, he got on his knees and, with one hand, began to gather them. 

"Ash, no," Brock said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Ash stopped, letting the pieces he'd assembled drop from his hand. "Just leave it. Get your other things. We have to go home now."

Dismally, Ash nodded, and got up to fetch his undamaged items. He would have given anything for the Ursaring to have butchered these instead of what was so important to him, but what was done was done. All he could think of now was going home, and as it grew darker with each minute, he hastened. They were late enough as it was, and Ash trembled as he imagined his mother's worry. 

"All right, guys," he said, hoisting Pikachu and his things in his arms. "Where did we come from?"

"That way," Brock replied, pointing. They all inhaled tensely as they were directed towards a dark patch of woods, deep and foreboding. 

Ash, however, arched his shoulders and put on a brave face. "Come on. We gotta get home."

With the remaining daylight they had left gravely dimming, they ventured into the woods, quick on their toes, eagerness pumping their blood.

The clock chimed nine o'clock, its slow, melodious bongs like the stab of a knife in Delia's stomach. The house was now dim, and the dinner was long-cooked, currently deserted and getting cold on the stove. She stood like a posed statue in front of the patio doors, her flickering eyes cast out, frenetically awaiting the return of the children. She'd been like this for over half-an-hour, her arms hugging herself insecurely, her mind restless.

She didn't know what to do. While she wanted to be convinced that they were just running a little late, she couldn't. Every minute that passed intensified her horrid concern. The kids had gone out on day trips similar to this in the past, but each time they returned punctually, earlier even. This was not like them . . . at all.

Jay emerged from the kitchen just as Delia released another frail sigh, and he tilted his head. "Del?"

She shut her eyes tightly. "Where are they?" 

He shuffled over to the patio door, and stared out at the peaceful evening settling over Pallet. The sky had now turned a deep, royal purple, and it was almost impossible to pinpoint any objects in the distance. Two-hundred yards across the street appeared as an endless realm of black.

"They're just a little late," he answered. 

"No," Delia shook her head. "It—it's getting way too dark. They were supposed to be home before dark."

Jay put on a tender smile. "Don't worry about it. They're coming; you don't have to stand here waiting for them. Just sit down, eat some dinner. It's sitting there getting cold."

"I don't want to eat," she waved it away. "Not until they come home. I'd rather watch for them."

Jay yawned tiredly, and rambled over to the couch. "A watched pot never boils."

Delia's eyes widened incredulously as she spun swiftly to face him. "Jay, these are the kids I'm waiting for! Our little boy and his friends! It's getting dark and they aren't home yet. I'm getting worried!"

"Oh, stop. Why are you worried?" said Jay lightly. "You're acting like they've never been out in the woods before. They'll get home; they're probably on their way now. Come on, sit down. Relax with me."

His calm tone did exactly the opposite of what Jay intended. "I'm concerned about where they are," she responded fretfully. "I know they can take care of themselves in the woods, but they promised they'd be home by eight. And it's nine."

"So?" Jay picked up the television schedule.

"So? Something has to be wrong! They just wouldn't stay out like this!" Just the thought of their absence and the possible, dreadful reasons behind it sent shivers racing through Delia's body. 

"They wouldn't?" Jay wondered, his eyebrow arching.

"No, they wouldn't."

He paused briefly. "How do you know that?" 

"How do I _know that?_" echoed Delia.

"Yeah," Jay shrugged, despite her aghast expression. "Come on, I stayed out later than I should've all the time. So did you, if I remember clearly." He gave her a knowing wink.

Delia groaned. "Yes, I did, Jay, but I wasn't out in the _woods!_" 

Jay simply shrugged again as he began to leaf through the schedule. Delia bit her lip furiously. She knew Jay was trying to appease her fret rather than cause her more, but she was unable to believe how casual he could act about this. She pivoted back to the window, looked out at the world being swallowed by night. 

Jay snatched a glimpse of her and slouched. "Delia, look," he sighed, his voice flowing softly and compassionately. "I know you're worried about them, but trust me on this, honey. They're okay. All right?"

"I won't know that until they come home."

"They'll come home," Jay repeated confidently. "They're fine."

"But . . ." she turned to him with glimmering eyes, "what if they don't? Jay, what if something happened? What if they're not all right? Just think about it for a second! They—they could be out there right now . . . _lost_, or—or one of them could be hurt! Ash could be hurt right now and we don't even know it!"

The emotion of such a statement induced her voice to break. She reached up to run her hand through her hair, messing it into wild tangles. 

"I'm sure they're not lost, and I'm sure Ash isn't hurt," Jay said, trying to stress his soothing voice. The thought chilled him, too, but he quickly put it out of his mind. "I can guarantee you right now this is what happened: they were out battling and having loads of fun, lost track of time, and are now rushing home like the devil. Simple as that."

Delia didn't completely doubt the likely explanation. After all, she'd seen the kids encounter various tough situations before, worse than the notion of them lost in the forest. Her maternal instincts were against her, though, waging an unrelenting battle. She wasn't receiving any dire vibes that the kids were in peril, but all the same she wasn't comforted. It brought suspicion most of all; it wasn't like them to do something such as this. She knew them too well to know they would never intentionally break their curfew, to merely think coming home an hour later than promised was no big deal. 

Delia kept convincing herself of this. She realized at the same time she was heightening her dread by thinking this way. No deliberate curfew-breaking meant trouble otherwise. They were out there in the dark, their distinct whereabouts unknown to her. They could be _anywhere_, stuck in any kind of unspeakable situation, subject to any kind of hazard. Sure, it was better to believe they were disobedient rather than in jeopardy, but Delia couldn't—not with the pessimism instilled in her through motherhood.

Stealing a glance at the clock, she read that ten minutes had passed. Her stomach somersaulted. This was serious now.

"Jay, please go out and find them."

Her husband gave her a face. "_What?_"

"Go out there. Please," she begged. "You have to go out there and find them. I can't take it anymore."

"Delia," Jay moaned, "you're being ridiculous now."

"Why am I being ridiculous?" Delia retorted crossly. 

"Look at it out!" Jay cried, gesturing madly at the patio doors. "There's no way I could find them now! I don't even know where they went!"

"I don't care," she pouted, grounding her teeth. "Please, Jay, please go and look for them! I'll come with you. We can find them, we have to!"

Jay rolled his eyes outrageously. "Delia, _look outside!_" She flinched at his voice. "You think it's that easy for us to go and there and search for them in the middle of the woods in the pitch black!? Are you crazy? This isn't like the last time Ash ran away, when I knew where he was. They could be anywhere! It's impossible, don't you understand that?"

Delia frowned. "It's not impossible. Please, it'll make me feel better!"

"I know it'll make you feel better, but what do you think this is?" Jay asked doubtfully. "What am I supposed to do, huh? Go out there with a lantern and search the whole goddamn Viridian Forest? Huh!? That's crazy!"

Her heart leaping at each piqued word, Delia tore her eyes from him. She couldn't take any more, slowly and distraughtly aware that she was moments away from going insane. Back and forth she paced under the harrowing eyes of her peeved husband, whose look quickly lightened to one of repent.

"Oh, dammit . . . Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he said, getting up and approaching her. She shut her eyes against incessant tears as he brought her in for a solacing embrace. "I didn't mean to yell, it's just that—it's just that we can't do anything right now. I'm worried, too, but you're worrying _too much_. Babe, you gotta calm down a little. Please, you've been so nervous lately. I—I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're killing yourself here! You know they can get themselves out of jams—you've seen them do it before! It's going to be okay. You'll see you're fretting over nothing."

"Then how come they aren't home?" she sniffled, tugging at his shirt. "Jay, I can't stop thinking that something terrible happened to them. I just can't help it."

"I know," Jay said sympathetically, "but you gotta think. They've been doing this for years now, Del. They're not amateurs anymore."

"I know. But that still doesn't mean they can't get into danger. Whether they're gone for months or one day, it doesn't matter."

Jay smiled softly. "Hey," he said, lifting her chin in order for their eyes to meet. "I know Ash, Misty, and Brock are okay." He managed a small laugh, which caused no facial change in Delia. "If _I_ can stubbornly survive going on all these journeys, I think they can, too."

Delia reached up to wipe her eyes. Gently, she left Jay's arms and dragged herself over to the patio doors. Jay watched her intently, her strain deeply disturbing him. He was worried about the kids, too, but right now his wife drew his concern the most. Combined with the moody, often dejected disposition she'd been in lately, this was no good for her. He was afraid for her in the first place, never getting a clear answer as to why she was so blue, and he needed her to relax before his worry had reason to grow.

"How 'bout this?" he gave in, noting the time. "If they aren't home in half-an-hour, I'll go and look for them. Okay? I think we can give them that much."

Though his offer made her feel better, even half-an-hour was too long. Reluctantly, however, she accepted it. After all, she did want to give the kids a chance. She was still trying hard to work on the conviction they were purely late. She wasn't too zealous with sending Jay out into the night, either, but at this point, she was willing to do anything. She wanted her son home.

"Thank you," she said. "I just hope they come home before that."

"They will," Jay pledged, smiling reassuringly. "I'm telling ya, they were out there fooling around. I know it."

"Well, if that's true, then they're not going out for a long time," Delia declared. "Not _one _of them."_ And I don't want my baby leaving _ever_ again . . ._

"Heh, okay," Jay smirked, sitting back down on the couch again. Delia stood at the door for a few more minutes before she finally opted to join her husband. Time was dwindling down, and each minute that passed increased her heart rate dramatically.

Ten minutes turned into fifteen, then twenty. It wasn't easy for Delia to keep discouraging thoughts out of her head. She watched the television inattentively, repeating in her mind again and again that they were coming home, that they finally realized how careless they were to have stayed out past dusk. To ease her worries, she attempted to fantasize what they were currently doing, creating scenes of them gallivanting all over the forest, their heads dizzy with carefree happiness, or perhaps even aware of how late it had become and making a beeline for home. It aggravated her, but at least they were safe. Every once in a while, an unwelcome image of them in danger seeped into her train of thought, followed by a vicious shake of her head to rid it. It couldn't be that way—no, certainly Jay knew what he was talking about. She trusted him . . . and she trusted the kids, too. Delia knew they were competent enough to face any sort of situation; she knew that first-hand. Tediously, this faith grew—but only to crumble as the mantelpiece clock rang nine-thirty. 

Delia nearly jumped to her feet as the chimes resounded. "Jacey, now," she whimpered.

Jay sighed, but got up. He didn't know how they were possibly going to do this, dreading the daunting task ahead of them. All he could think of were the boundless possibilities of where the kids were. It was so dark outside, and he didn't know where to begin, or how late they would be out searching for them. Knowing Delia, they could be out exploring till all hours of the night, which was not good for him considering he had work the next morning. And even then, who was to know if the kids returned while they were out on their quest? Jay didn't like it one bit. He sauntered over to the door, and forcefully jammed his feet into his sneakers. 

__

Ash, I swear, he vowed inwardly as he bent down to agitatedly knot the laces. _If I find out you were out there fooling around and causing all this shit back here, you're in a heap-load of trouble._

Delia was practically dancing on her toes as she waited for him to finish tying his shoes. Her head darted from him to the patio door, still hopeful.

"Jay, hurry up," she pleaded impatiently.

"All right, all right, hold on," Jay replied, dashing up the stairs. "I need to get my keys and my Pokémon. And a flashlight."

"Okay," Delia bit her lip.

Jay barely reached the landing, however, as the front doorknob began to jiggle, and the distinctive sound of fumbling key meeting lock pricked their ears. He halted, but Delia, wide-eyed, leapt to the door in a second's time. 

"Ash? Is that you?" she cried as she tore it open aggressively, yanking the embedded key from her son's hand and practically snapping his wrist in the process. The three startled kids leapt back, each emitting their own gasp of alarm.

"Mom!" Ash yapped, tightening his clutch on Pikachu. A crooked smile etched his lips. "Oh, man, you scared me!"

Delia didn't say a word, struggling to catch her breath as she took in the sight of the kids, unharmed yet disarrayed. For the moment, all she could do was scrutinize their presence before her. Waves of relief washed over her as she studied their dirty, sweaty faces, each radiating of fatigue but utter bliss.

"You're home? You're home?" she finally managed to choke, her voice inaudible. "Wh-where were you? Why are you so late?"

"Oh, Mom," Ash whimpered, crashing into her and burying his face into the crook of her arm. She embraced him fervently, thanking God he was safe. Ash slid his arm around her waist and grasped her just as firmly, already feeling ten times better with the simple sensation of being held. 

Delia pried Ash away and looked deeply into his eyes. "What happened to you? I was so worried." Her voice was still distraught.

"Yeah," Jay added, his voice a bit stern. He descended to the last step. "Where were you three? You have no idea how sick we were wondering what you were up to!"

Ash winced. "I'm so sorry. You . . . you won't believe what happened to us tonight."

"I still can't believe it myself," Misty said, her voice wobbly.

"It was awful," Brock groaned.

Delia was getting anxious. "Ash, are you telling me that you got into some sort of trouble?" 

"Or were you just out there fooling around and losing track of time?" Jay said, his eyebrows raised. Ash, Misty, and Brock nearly staggered at that one. 

"No, it wasn't that!" Ash was quick to deny. "W-we got caught—we got trapped! By a Pokémon! We . . . we ran into a Pokémon—a-an Ursaring!"

"An Ursaring!?" Delia and Jay exclaimed at once.

"_Huge_," Brock said with heavy emphasis.

"_Really_ huge," Misty quivered.

"It was so big," Ash shook his head. "We met up with it just as we were packing up and ready to go home. I-it was stupid of me, but I didn't know what it was at the time, and I really wanted to catch a Pokémon today, so—so I sent Pikachu to attack it."

"Wait a second," Jay interjected, raising a hand. "You're telling me you saw an Ursaring, and you didn't even know that's what it was?"

"It was behind the bushes," Ash validated.

"We couldn't see it at first," Brock explained.

"I told Ash to leave it alone, whatever it was," Misty moaned. "But no, he had to go and attack it."

Delia shivered as Ash slumped defeatedly. "I know, I know, it was dumb! It was all my fault!" He gazed back at his mom, who was waiting painstakingly for him to continue. He gestured down to the depleted Pokémon in his arms. "Pikachu was in no condition to battle, but I made him anyway, and th-the Ursaring hit him, and it knocked him out, but then it got real mad and started chasing us!"

"We didn't know where we were going, we just ran," Misty recounted. "Brock—he pointed out this cave, so we all got into it."

Yeah, but in the meantime, I dropped my bag, and while we were all crammed into this horrible, nasty cave, the Ursaring started r-ripping _apart my stuff . . ._" At that, Ash's voice wavered, and he shut his eyes against oncoming tears. "It . . . it j-just totally destroyed my Pokédex—it's broken, it's ruined, and my bag is—m-my bag is ripped to shreds . . . And that whole time we were in there, and the Ursaring knew it because it wouldn't let us out!"

"We were stuck in that cave for almost an hour," Misty practically wailed.

"It just wouldn't let us leave," Brock whispered.

Jay and Delia were inert in stupefaction. The story that was unfolding was so astonishing they couldn't believe what they were hearing. Delia cocked her head slightly, trying to make sense of it all. 

"So you're saying your were stuck in a cave this whole time?" she asked quietly. The three kids nodded.

"It was awful, Mom."

"I can't believe that," Jay exclaimed. "How come you didn't just use one of your other Pokémon?"

"We tired them all out training," Brock answered.

Huffing, Jay shook his head. "You should never tire out all of your Pokémon. You never know when you'll need them."

They looked away, not responding. Ash ground his teeth, casting another regretful look at Pikachu. He felt terrible, but it was incomparable to the extent of the same feeling brewing in his mother's veins. 

"Ash, wh-why did you use up all of your Pokémon's energy?" she questioned, her tone full of disappointment. "They . . . they could've helped you! You could've needed them to protect you!"

"I know," Ash replied dolefully. 

Jay looked down at Pikachu. "And Ash, how could you make Pikachu battle after a long day of training? I can just tell by looking at him he's all messed up! What did you do to him?"

"I don't know," Ash sniffled in reply. "I guess I wasn't thinking. I—I wanted a Pokémon."

Delia stared at his still drooping head, getting rather uneasy. She realized the degree of poor planning in what was otherwise supposed to be a harmless day-excursion. She sent them out there with practically no concern, feeling as Jay did—that they knew everything they needed to know to get through the day uneventfully. It obviously wasn't so this time.

__

They could've gotten . . . "But—but how did you get out then?" she wondered, perplexed more than ever on how they were here with just a few scratches and an appearance that looked like they had been to hell and back.

For the first time, the smallest trace of a smile appeared on all three kids' faces.

"That's the funny part, Mom!" Ash nearly chuckled. 

__

There's nothing funny about this, she thought.

"Togepi got us out!"

Despite Misty and Brock's grins and nods, Delia and Jay were completely confounded. They gaped for some time before Jay, blinking, spoke up.

"Wh-what? _Togepi?_"

"Yeah, Togepi!" Misty exclaimed in response. 

"He used an attack!" Ash said excitedly. "Or some sort of power, or something!"

"All he did was wave his arms around a little, and the Ursaring was gone!" Brock said mystically. "Disappeared!"

"Get out of here!" Jay's eyes were wide with amused surprise.

"Honest!" Ash replied. 

"That's incredible," his dad expressed, staring at Togepi in awe. 

Misty smiled widely. "Guess Togepi can do a lot more stuff then we think he can, huh?" She brought the tired, little Pokémon to her face to nuzzle him gently.

"Yeah," Ash nodded, turning to his mom. "And that's when we came home right away. I—I grabbed Pikachu and . . . what was left of my stuff, and we ran back the whole way. An hour later, but we're home."

He ended with a deep, relieved breath. Despite all that happened, he gazed exhaustedly but amiably at his mother, certain she felt better as well. However, she attempted not to match his expression. Ash's lighthearted face slowly fell as Delia's wrinkled with uncertainty. 

"Mom? What's the matter?" 

Delia shook her head. "I can't believe it," she said silently.

Her son grinned. "What? About Togepi?" 

At that, she scowled, and the grin was wiped clean off Ash's face. "About _Togepi?_" 

Ash flinched befuddledly. "Wh . . . what are you talking about then?"

"What am I talking about?" she reprised, and the three kids flinched at the anxiety in her breaking voice. "I—I'm talking about you! A-a-about what you got yourself into tonight!"

Ash slumped, but not uneasily. After the situation they had encountered that night, he had expected a rather fidgety reaction from her. He gave her a facile look. 

"I know, Mom," he said softly. "But we're home now, we're safe. It's okay."

"No! N-no, it's not okay!" she sputtered, her chestnut eyes wavering. It was positively not that at all. Horrified, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. All her worries had been legitimate!

"Ash, you—you could've gotten hurt tonight! Any one of you could! How could you think about taking a risk like that?"

"What risk?" asked Ash. 

"About battling that . . . that thing!" Delia cried frantically. "It was late, you know I wanted you home for dinner, and you—and you go and fight a dangerous animal with Pikachu being all worn out like that?"

Ash was shocked at her attitude. He knew she'd be upset a little, but he thought that just the fact that they were home and safe would have been the end of it.

"Mom, it's okay, really!" he replied delicately. "Look, I know it was a mistake, and I'm sorry. I realize I did something stupid! But it's okay now! Everything's fine."

His mollifying voice was not doing what he wished it to. He could see concern radiating from his mom's face, fear and displeasure at the danger he had placed himself in. 

"No, it's not fine," Delia said. "It might've been this time, but how am I to know it will be in the future?"

Ash appeared confused. "Mom, what do you—?"

"I thought I could trust you out there, Ash!" she interjected, her voice squeaking. "I thought that by now you would know what to do out there, how to keep yourself out of trouble and—and know what you _shouldn't_ do!"

Ash cautiously advanced forward, ready to reason. "Mom, I know how—"

"No, you don't know!" she exclaimed, and he shut his mouth. 

The silence was brief but heavy, Ash, Misty, Brock, and Jay stone still and Delia fighting to calm her thumping heart. She could feel more tears coming on as she perceived the situation more and more. What happened tonight didn't have to happen. The peril they were in could have been avoided. And this was only one night . . . how was it all the other times?

"You know, Ash, I worry about you so much," she said inaudibly. "Even today, just this simple little thing you were doing worried me."

"Mom, come on," Ash sighed, rolling his eyes. "We do this all the time."

"I know you do it all the time, but that doesn't stop me from worrying! Don't you think I constantly think about you, where you are? Hoping that you're safe and out of trouble?"

"But we are safe!" Ash pouted in assertion, drawing Pikachu even closer to his chest. "Mom, we know to take care of ourselves! We did it tonight!"

"No you didn't!" she contradicted. "You needed Togepi to help you! _Togepi! _Without him . . . who knows how long you would've been out there?" Ash started to say something, but Delia hardly gave him the chance. "That's not all I'm concerned about, though, Ash. I'm concerned about the decision you made—the bad one!"

"What bad one!?" Ash exclaimed. Misty and Brock cringed at his sharp voice, each too engrossed in the conflict to put in their say. 

"About making Pikachu battle! About attacking something you should've just left alone!" his mother answered, her tone weakening with each outburst. 

He just groaned aggravatedly. "Mom, you don't know anything about that stuff . . ."

Delia's eyes widened. "I know enough to know that it wasn't a smart thing to do!"

"It wasn't," Jay shook his head in agreement. "You shouldn't overwork your Pokémon if you don't have to."

"I didn't mean to overwork Pikachu!" Ash defended himself again, staring at his dad with eyes appealing for his approval. "I thought he could do it! And Pikachu told me he could, too!"

"I don't care," Delia said, and her son's dismayed attention was returned to her. Her eyes suddenly pooled with tears. "Ash, I want to know that _you _can make wise decisions. I want to know that you know how to avoid trouble and be safe out there without having me worry like crazy. And doing what you did tonight doesn't show me that!"

Ash smacked his forehead. He was getting annoyed now. Why wasn't she letting up about this? They returned home in one piece—shouldn't that have been all she wanted? Seeing her confronting him, pale from frenzy and imploring for answers he couldn't give without dissatisfying her, he just wanted to escape to his room and let it all blow over. She would relax gradually. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon—he and his friends were basically cornered. And by their wavering silence, he was evidently the one who was going to have to settle this.

"Mom . . ." he said, trying to think of what to say that would please her, "you don't have to worry about me."

"Obviously, Ash, I do," she said reluctantly. She went on slowly, "How am I to know that you won't do something like this again? We all make mistakes, but you can't afford to make ones like this—especially ones that you _know_ might not end up good."

"I thought it was going to end up good," Ash mumbled. "I was hoping to get a new Pokémon."

Her face clenched with anguish. "Ash . . ." she breathed, biting her lip strongly, "you have no idea how much I was worrying about you tonight."

Disgruntled, Ash stamped his foot lightly. "Mom, _why?_"

"Why?" she echoed incredulously, her anxiety sharpening. "Why!?" _Because you're my only baby and I don't want to lose you . . . ! _

She gaped at him for a moment silently. "Because I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt," he returned precisely.

"I don't want you to put yourself in dangerous situations."

"I don't _try _to!"

She tensed at that. "I don't . . . I don't . . ." Her voice staggered, the lowered to a pitiable whisper. "I don't want to lose you."

"Ugh, Mom, you're not going to lose me!" Ash grumbled, effectively outdoing his mom's last utterance. Misty and Brock exchanged a skittish, worrisome look.

"Yes I can!" she replied, her voice now tottering with looming sobs. "Ash, you don't think anything can happen, but it can! Things canhappen! It almost did tonight! And . . . and I can't _stand_ sending you off all these times and worrying about every little bad thing that can happen to you!"

"But nothing bad is going to happen to me!" he rebutted, trying so hard to put decisiveness into his agitated voice. "Mom, just please, lay off! I'm fine! I'm not going to get hurt!"

"I can't lay off! I love you too much!" Delia repeated. "You know how hard it is to send you off, not knowing what you're going to meet up with?"

"_Why?_" Ash implored again. "Why, Mom, why can't you!? Why can't you just stop worrying for one second and _trust_ me!?"

"Because you're my baby, that's why!" she said, balling her fists.

Ash growled, completely fed up now. "Don't call me your _baby!_ I'm not a baby anymore!" he huffed. "I'm almost twelve-years-old! I can take care of myself! Let me grow up!"

__

Not . . . my baby? She froze. This wasn't the first time she had heard such a remark from her son, but this time it was different. After days and days of lowering self-assurance and weakening denial, she wondered if ever again she would call someone else her baby. But she could with Ash; nothing would ever take away the blessing that he was her baby.

"You are my baby," she said inaudibly. "I don't care how old you are, you're still my baby. And I can't stand to have you leave all the time. It breaks my heart and it makes me worry sick wondering if you're okay! And I can't _stand_ it anymore!"

At that statement, Ash's nerves snapped. This was all he could take. "Stop it!" he shouted, his annoyance resounding from his blaring voice. "Stop acting this way, Mom! Stop acting like I can't do anything! I _can_ take care of myself out there! And I can do it without you worrying about me all the time, babying me! I don't want to be babied anymore! If . . . if you want to baby someone so much, why . . . why don't you just go and have another baby!? Huh!? Just—_go and have another baby and leave me alone!_"

The outburst stunned the room into silence. Misty and Brock's eyes widened at the flare-up. They never expected Ash to raise his voice like that, say something so extreme. Jay was rendered into a state of shock, as well, but nothing compared to the indefinable look on Delia's face. Her heart taking a stricken leap in her small chest, she went sickly pale, and it appeared as if a shadow of horror and distress clouded over her eyes. Slowly, she began to back up, wincing as the tears finally cascaded down her face.

As her ghastly look intensified, a chill ran up Ash's spine. His hard face instantly softened. "Mom? Wh-what's the matter?" he asked, his voice returning to a delicate pitch.

His mom just shook her head, her hurt-filled eyes brandishing into Ash's uncomprehending ones. She couldn't think of what to say—she couldn't even think of anything except for what he had just uttered. It replayed in her head aversely, bringing waves of pain and rejection like electric bolts through her body. She opened her mouth slightly to say something, but at a loss for words, just shook her head again.

All around her, the concerned looks flourished, misconstruing her peculiar reaction. It was certainly a rude comment that Ash had proclaimed, there was no doubt about that in anyone's mind; but the look on her face denoted as though Delia had been delivered her death-sentence rather than just a careless remark from her son.

"Mom?" Ash attempted again. He sounded frightened now, alarmed at her aghast countenance, notably directed his way. 

Delia finally narrowed her eyes at him in contempt, a sob escaping her choked-up throat. "You insensitive, little brat," she sneered.

With that, she tore away, and rushed towards the stairs and her startled husband. 

"Delia! Hold on, wait a second!" Jay tried to restrain her, but she just pushed him aside forcefully, an oncoming of violent crying overpowering her. 

Ash's eyes didn't even follow her up the stairs. They darted about where his mother once stood, glazed over in disbelief. He stopped breathing as her last words struck him with unbelievable force.

"Ash?" Misty said precariously as she and Brock hastened to his side. Carefully, she placing a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to them slowly, meeting them with tear-filled eyes.

"Wha-what did I say?" Ash asked, his voice cracking.

When neither could answer him, he spun around to Jay, who looked just as disconcerted as he did.

"Dad!? Wha-what . . . ?"

Detecting his disorientation, Jay shook his head. "I—I don't know." He ran a hand through his black hair insecurely, trying to figure out what had just transpired. "You—you shouldn't have said anything, Ash. You just shoulda—" 

"But what did I say?" Ash wailed. He had never been called such a thing by his mother before, making his body clench with dejection and confusion. He swiftly succumbed to his sudden tears. "I didn't mean it! Whatever I said, I didn't mean—!"

"Ash, shhh, quiet," Misty ordered softly, grabbing his arm. "It's okay!"

Ash didn't listen. "Dad, what did I say!? I didn't mean it, honestly!"

Hearing the earnest panic in his boy's voice, Jay didn't know how to answer him. His regard was flying back and forth between Ash and Delia, the whole situation sending him into a fit of nervous jostling as he wondered who to attend to first. The last expression he saw on his wife's face gave him the creeps, but now as he witnessed the tears forming in Ash's repentant eyes, he was overwhelmed. Just what the hell had _happened?_

"Dad!"

"Ash, just be quiet! It's okay!" his father hastily assured him, but Ash didn't look satisfied. His lip quivering, he lifted Pikachu up and buried his face into his fur, too blown away to do anything else.

Misty bit her lip. "Ash, c'mon, it's okay!"

"It's no big deal," Brock said. "It'll be fine."

"No! What did I do!?" he demanded to know, his voice peaking with sobs.

Jay shuddered at Ash's bemoaning. He had to know what was going on _now_. Rapidly, he spun around and started up the stairs, gazing down the fractious scene below. "Ash, just sit on the couch, okay?" he advised. "Misty, Brock—stay with him for a second. I'm going to see what's the matter with Mom."

"Okay," Misty and Brock answered at once, and promptly led Ash to the couch without resistance. Ash collapsed into the cushions and grit his teeth, wallowing in the aftereffect of Delia's severe words. Misty and Brock sat on either side of him, encompassing him with a laden air of sympathy, and said not a word as they allowed their friend to submit to all the emotions that had incremented throughout the eventful day. 

Meanwhile, Jay briskly made his way to his room, a clash of commingled thoughts flying through his head. This whole night had been one, big mess, and he was adamant to find out what the meaning to it all was. The kids' strange adventure could be dealt with later, but now all he was focused on was Delia. Not that this focus was in any ways new—for the past week and a half, he was baffled by her bizarre behavior, and tonight was simply the clincher. Never had she acted so paranoid over the kids' travels and Ash's safety; never had he seen her respond to something Ash—or _anyone_—had said to her in such an uncalled-for manner. She was not herself, and hadn't been for too long now. Jay was sincerely terrified.

The door was closed but not locked, and he barged into the room in an almost reckless fashion. It was enough to jar Delia's head from her hands, and her reddened eyes flashed a look of alarm. She was sitting on the bed, stooped over and looking as frail as he had ever seen her. Jay stopped dead-short in the doorway and observed her intently, but she paid no mind to it, depositing her wet face into her hands again, and continued to wail soundly.

Seeing her this way sent waves of uneasiness through him, and Jay immediately rushed over and dropped to his knees before her.

"Delia! Come on, what's the matter? Why are you crying?" he entreated, trying to pry her hands away from her face. She fought against him firmly, and it took much effort for him to finally reveal her grisly look. He clasped her hands tightly in his own, but she continued to cry, shaking her head and avoiding eye-contact with him.

"Delia! Please! What's the matter with you? What!? What happened down there? Please tell me!"

"No . . . no!" was all she replied gruffly, doubling over with sobs. Jay reached up with one hand to brush her hair away from her sticky, raw eyes.

His heart was pounding now. This was what he'd been getting all week, only this time it was much more intensified. She was hiding something—hiding something major—and his concern for her had never been this fierce. 

"Delia . . . honey, please!" he pleaded, his own voice cracking. "Please tell me what's wrong! I know something's the matter with you! I can't stand you acting this way, being so miserable! Please, I'm here for you! You can tell me anything, you know that! Just please tell me what's the matter! _Please!_"

Delia appeared to stop resisting, but she still showed no signs of talking. She struggled to catch her breath, making Jay impatient with fright.

"Why . . . why did what Ash say bother you? What did he say that made you call him that?" he demanded, his eyes blazing. "Why? Why!?"

"Because!" Delia finally shouted, and stopped there. Stunned, Jay dropped her hands and they went immediately to cover her face again, but not entirely. Her eyes remained exposed, pink and contemplative. 

Jay paused for a second. "Because why?" he asked silently, approaching her again.

Delia allowed their eyes to meet for the first time. Taking in his handsome, face, strained of worry and devotion to find out what was troubling her, she realized she couldn't keep her secret any longer. She didn't want to bear thinking of how much it was going to hurt him, but he wanted to know—he was so vehement. For so much affection, for so much love, he didn't deserve to be kept in such cruel confusion. 

"Oh, Jay," she spoke haggardly. What had befallen her so shortly ago all came sweeping back to her, overwhelming her with that most detestable feeling of remorse and depression. 

Jay perked, his face lightening in compassionate encouragement for her to go on, taking her hands and squeezing them again. She swallowed hard and sniffled, looking to the ceiling as she tried to compose in her head the words that would disclose the source of all her affliction. At last, her eyes locked back into his, squinting against the assault of unending tears.

"It happened again."

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

You know, I looked back at one of my old chapters of Stars Fell the other day, and noticed that it was five pages long. **Five!**_ This chapter was twenty-three. ^^;;; What the heck happened!? LOL Either I'm really getting into this or I'm just writing too damn much. :P_

Hope you enjoyed this very long, very tense chapter! I'm pretty sure chapter 15 will be out next week on schedule, but it's not in stone. What is in stone is that it's much shorter than this one was. ^_^; Let's just hope school doesn't get evil with me in the next few days…

Thank you for reading! ^_^


	15. Secrets Revealed

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 15

Secrets Revealed

Jay faltered as Delia's indistinct but bleak statement filled his mind with massive confusion. He gaped into her eyes as they glistened over with a new swelling of tears.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered, fear creeping into his voice. His hands clasped hers tightly. "What happened again?"

Delia paused, trying to summon strength to clarify her dreaded announcement. She fought to find the right words in that short, traumatic time, finally settling on the simplest.

"I . . ." she started, gulping. "Jay . . . I was pregnant."

Instantly, she could feel his grip on her hands go limp, accompanied by the expression of astonishment that dominated his face. For a moment, Jay didn't know what to say or even how to react. The abruptness of the revelation took complete hold of his body, rendering him into a flustered state of shock.

"Wh . . . what?" he gasped. Delia said nothing, releasing a sob as his eyes misted over with dismay. "Did you . . ." His voice dropped hesitantly. "Did you just say . . . y-you . . . you _were _pregnant?"

Dolefully, she stared into his face, knowing her tears would answer his question, and they did. As it all dawned on him and became brutally clear within a second, Jay's jaw dropped and his brow tightened in pitying remorse.

"Oh my God," he choked. "Oh my God—oh no, Delia . . ." At that, he allowed her to bury her face into his shoulder, grasped her in the most firm and consoling embrace he could give. "Aw, no, baby, no . . ."

"Oh Jay . . ." she wailed, trailing off as her body shook with sobs. 

Jay couldn't stop his own tears from raiding his eyes as he held his distraught wife in his arms. "Shhh, it's okay, it's okay," were the calming words that instinctively left his mouth. A slew of questions and doubts rushed to his head, but he couldn't even voice any of them. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry. Shhhhh."

"I want to die, Jay," she cried loudly. "I just wanna _die_ . . ."

"No, you don't," he corrected her hastily. "Don't say that. You don't want to die."

"Yes I do!" Delia negated firmly and woefully. "Jay, our baby's gone . . . I lost it, it's _g-gone_ . . ."

"Shhhhhhh," he hushed again, frantic to pacify her. "It's okay."

For the next minute, not a word exchanged between the two. The room was filled with the terrible resonating of Delia's sorrow as Jay rocked her, trying gravely to accept her confession as reality. He wished with all his might that this awful scene of grief wasn't true. It couldn't be. They had gone through this before—this misery wasn't supposed to happen to them again.

Finally, Jay pulled her away from his shoulder. He set her red, tear-strewn face before his, concern blazing from his passionately wavering eyes.

"_Jay _. . ." she whined, turning her head away.

"Shhh, calm down, calm down," he said. "Look at me."

Somewhat sheepishly, she did, and he reached out to wipe her wet cheeks delicately with the palm of his hand.

"When?" he asked her softly. "When did this happen?"

Delia coughed. "About a week ago," she answered dismally. "You know, the day Ash dyed his hair?"

"The day you were . . . sick?" Jay uttered incredulously. Delia nodded. "Did you know—?"

When she nodded again despondently, a chill ran through Jay's body. "But . . . why? Honey, why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, Jay," she moaned, sniffling hard. "I couldn't tell you. I just . . . I couldn't . . ."

"Why not?" he said gently. Thinking of how ill she was that day and how much he had worried about her, he couldn't believe what the source behind her brief suffering had been. If only he had known . . .

"Because I couldn't," she whimpered. "Because I knew how much it was going to upset you! And I didn't want to upset you . . ."

"I—I wouldn't have gotten upset!" Jay assured her. "I mean, it—it's a shock, yes, and . . . and I would have felt bad, but I was concerned about you! You've been scaring me this past week with the way you've been acting, and I—and I had no idea what the reason behind it was!" He softened his voice gently. "You know you could've told me. You know you could tell me _anything_."

"I know," Delia cried, wiping at her hot, raw cheeks now. Guilt joined the anguish already present in her voice. "I was going to tell you sometime. I'm sorry . . ."

"No, no, don't be sorry," Jay smiled sympathetically. "You don't have to be sorry. I understand." 

"No you don't . . ." she grit her teeth. "You're probably so mad at me. I'm so, _so_ sorry!"

"Hey, I'm not mad at you!" he swore to her quickly and solemnly. "I'm not mad at you—God no! But Delia . . . o-oh man, I've been worried about you." He hesitated as he tried to sort out the millions of questions he had going through his brain all at once, fighting to escape off his tongue and hasten to seek her answer. The most fearful one came first, and he clutched her arms fiercely. 

"D-did you go to the doctor?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

Delia began to breathe a little easier now that the hardest part was out of the way. Hearing the tender concern in Jay's voice, she let her body relax.

"He said I'm not unhealthy," she replied.

Jay let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God." She nodded accordingly, still more than comforted herself that there was no physical hindrance to her becoming successfully pregnant . . . that was, if she ever gained enough courage to attempt again.

"H-how far along were you? Did he know?" Jay wondered, tilting his head.

"A . . . a little over a month," came her muffled answer.

Jay thought of this momentarily, and suddenly, his face lit up with awe. "Wait a minute. If . . . if it was only a month . . . then . . . then that must mean . . ."

The weakest trace of a smile etched her lips. "We conceived on our first night back together," she finished mystically. 

Jay stared at her agape, completely confounded with such news. The smile on Delia's face didn't last much longer, however, as the truth behind what otherwise would have been a pleasantly ironic discovery brought her crashing back down to earth.

Sensing her despair again, Jay brought his wife in for another strong hug and kissed her head softly. Delia melted in his arms, so sad and yet feeling so fortunate to have someone as caring as him. After all the secrets she had kept, she didn't deserve such sympathy.

"_Jay_," she dirged miserably. Her wet eyes soaked his shirt.

"Shhhh," he whispered, stroking her long hair. He did this for some time before he popped another question, allowing her to regain her capability in this very difficult conversation.

"Baby . . . why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you I was sorry," she said, her words garbled as her face was still buried in his shoulder.

"No, no." Jay pried her away. "I mean . . . about you being pregnant. Why didn't you tell me?"

She looked away shamefully again. "Jay, I wanted to tell you so badly," she lamented. "But . . . but I decided that I was going to wait. I . . . I wanted to wait until the wedding to tell you."

The enlightened smile that emerged on his face told her she didn't need to say any more, but she did anyway. "All I could think of was how perfect it would've been to tell you then—on our wedding day. Everything was going to be so wonderful, and . . . and I thought that if I told you then it would make it even more _special _. . ." She broke down, hanging her head pitifully. "I didn't mean to k-keep it from you! I-it was only a few weeks, I didn't think that was so long! I was g-g-going to tell you, but I . . . I never, ever thought this would happen! I never thought this would e-ever _happen!_"

"I know, I know," Jay solaced. "Of course you didn't." He bit his lip harshly as her weeping sent a sickening chill through his body. He couldn't stand to hear her so crushed. The more he thought about it, the more his heart was shattering. He had hoped greatly that she would soon conceive, as for once they were fully prepared to have another child, and to think of how that wish come true was brusquely and unfairly taken away again prompted the tears that descended down his face.

Delia looked up, and was shocked. Her husband was not one to cry. Jay was not fighting his crying as he tried to think of what to say that would comfort her. He knew how long it had taken her to get over her first miscarriage, and knew that this time would be no different, if not worse.

"I know you didn't want to keep it from me; you wanted it to be a surprise," he said. "That must've been so hard."

"It was," she admitted. "I was so happy . . . I couldn't wait for the wedding. I couldn't wait. I . . . thought I wasn't doing anything wrong."

Picking up the regret in her voice, Jay smiled. "You didn't do anything wrong. You had the best intentions behind it. That's not doing something wrong in my opinion." More tears escaped her eyes, and his face fell. "Aww, Del, my poor girl. You didn't deserve this."

She shook her head in defiance. "Yes I did," she squeaked.

Jay's head jerked up in shock. "What are you talking about?" he exclaimed.

"I did, Jay. I did deserve it!" she wailed. "God doesn't want me to have any more babies."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Delia, that's not true! You know that's not true!" he disclaimed fervently.

"Yes it is!" she cried, covering her face with her hand. "I'm obviously just supposed to have Ash; that's what He wants. He doesn't want me to have any more . . ."

"_Hey_, listen to me!" Jay snapped rather severely, pulling her hand away from her face. His hard voice staggered from his crying. "I don't know where you got that idea, but it's absurd! Of course you're supposed to have more babies! How can you think something like that!?"

"Because it's true," Delia moaned, and she sounded quite resolute with that statement. "If He didn't, then He wouldn't have done this to me again! He doesn't want me to have any more kids 'cause—because I'm such a horrible mother! It's 'cause I'm such a _bad mother_ . . . !"

"Delia, you are _not_ a horrible mother!" Jay replied, his tone high-pitched and aghast. "What has gotten into you!? Why are you saying that?"

"Because if I was a good mother, then this would've never happened!" Delia said. Her throat was now raw, and she winced as the last shriek stung it fiercely. "I—I should've taken it easier more, I shouldn't have gone to work, or—or anything! I should've rested, and taken care of myself, and not been so confident that everything was just going to be one, big happy ride! But no no, I thought everything would be fine, and that I would be fine, and I'm so, _so_ _foolish!_"

"Delia—"

"And—and I should've told you I was pregnant! I should've told you right away and I didn't! And then . . . and then I—I—I've been so mean to Ash lately! I haven't been fair to him at all—!"

"You haven't been mean to Ash!" he disputed desperately, her brutal self-abuse making him shudder.

"Yes I have. I've been so hard on him about this whole Misty thing, and I shouldn't be! I—I should just let him grow up and do his own thing."

"Delia, you have every right in the world to be nervous about Ash having his first relationship. That's completely understandable! Don't you dare think that's the reason why you lost this baby!"

"It is the reason, Jay," she was still determined to believe. Looking back on all she had done wrong in the last months, she had no idea why this loss came as such a shock to her. Restricting Ash was wrong. Keeping her pregnancy a concealment was wrong. They were all terrible mistakes. 

"If I had just been a better person, God wouldn't have done this to me. I've been such a selfish, horrible person and He's punishing me for it."

"_That isn't true!_" Jay yelled, his voice indicating his chafed incredulity. He took hold of her arms and practically shook her. "Delia, I'm not going to have you talk like that, you hear me!? You did nothing—nothing!—to deserve this! _Nothing! _You're a wonderful, wonderful mother and I'm not going to have you think otherwise!"

Delia's lower lip quivered a little, and she turned her head away. Jay took a deep breath as he sensed her continuous denial. He didn't know how he was going to get through to her, but he was going to try with all his might. Yelling at her, though, was not going to do any good, and letting his heart calm for a moment, he went on quietly.

"Listen to me. I know you're hurting. I am, too. This . . . this is a hard, hard thing, and it's going to be difficult to get through. But we _will_ get through it. We will. We have once, and we can do it again. But that means you have to have a little more confidence in yourself . . . and in God. He didn't do this to hurt you, Del. You know that."

She still shook her head, sniffling.

"You didn't do anything wrong—not with Ash, not with me, not with anyone. I can't think of anyone who's a better mother, or a better wife, than you. I mean that." He took hold of her chin gently and their eyes met again. "No matter what, you always have Ash . . . and you always have me. We're not gonna go anywhere, I promise you. We love you, and Misty and Brock—they love you, too. Even if we never have any more kids, you got three great ones down there you care about you, and love you for all you do for them."

He kissed her hand, more tears dripping down his cheeks. "You've been the sweetest, most loving person you can be to them—and to me, and that's why I won't have you believe that you deserved to lose that baby. Everything has a reason, but that isn't the one behind this. You _didn't deserve it_."

Delia sat silently and motionlessly as she took this all in. Her tears never ceased, but somehow the effect of his indulgent words and warm hands made her face gradually lighten. 

"There's one thing I don't deserve," she mumbled, managing an emotional grin. "I don't deserve you."

Jay had to chuckle. "I think you got that the other way around, babe. I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

In spite of his smile, Delia could hear the seriousness in his statement. She couldn't help but allow her body to relent to those words, regardless of whether she agreed with them or not. 

"Listen," he said. "All the great things you have in your life you've earned and deserve. You're a wonderful mom, and a wonderful person, and you deserve nothing but happiness. And I don't want you to doubt that for one moment, you got that?"

After a short pause, Delia smiled wanly and nodded. 

"That's my girl," Jay blinked in satisfaction, leaning in to deliver a delicate kiss on her lips. At first, her sadness allowed her no passion to respond, but soon the feel of his deep affection drove her to accept it almost drastically. 

"I love you, Jacey," she whispered after they broke apart.

Jay smiled. "I love you, too. More than anything."

"What are we going to do?" 

He looked down at her lap, sighing contemplatively. "We're gonna have to take it one step at a time. Like we did the last time."

"I don't know if I can do that," she said desolately.

"Yes, you can," Jay replied, caressing her face lovingly. "And the first thing . . ." His voice lowered soberly. "The first thing we have to do is tell Ash."

Her eyes abruptly widened, not much to his surprise. "No! No, Jay, we can't—!"

"Delia," Jay intervened, bringing a finger to his unsettled wife's lips sternly but tenderly. "We have to tell him. Otherwise he's not going to understand anything of what's going on. He already knows something is up, and it's not right to just keep him wondering."

Delia wasn't fully convinced yet of the idea, which she instantly saw as precarious. She couldn't envision revealing to Ash what had happened, wondering frightfully how he would react.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she argued, her voice shaky. "I don't think we should tell him! He's too young!"

"No, he isn't," Jay shook his head. "He was the first time, but now he's entitled to know. He's very confused right now with the way you've been acting lately, being depressed and all. He told me the other day, and—and I couldn't give him an answer why you were like that! He's worried about you—we have to tell him."

Delia bit her lip. She figured Ash would have eventually become curious about her peculiar disposition, but then again, she was also relying on the prospect that she would soon tackle her visible gloom. She obviously hadn't done a good job of it—especially with the inharmonious confrontation only moments before. Recalling what she had said to him, and the unawareness of how potent his outburst was, she realized just how much Ash _did _deserve to know.

"I'm gonna go get him," Jay announced, without waiting for her consent. By then, though, Delia reluctantly knew it was for the best.

"All right," she finally gave in. "I don't know how we're gonna do this, though."

"Don't worry," he said, rising. "I think we'll all feel better once it's all cleared up. It'll work out. I promise you."

Delia nodded, wiping the residue of her remaining tears away and wincing as the area below her eyes was sensitive at the touch. With that, he left, leaving her alone to gather her thoughts—and her bravery. Nervousness combined with her sorrow, making her tremble. Not only did she have no idea how Ash would respond, but she was also timid to see him after the untimely face-off. She prayed quickly that everything would turn out all right.

Meanwhile, Jay made his way discreetly down the stairs, peering over the banister at the scene below. Not much had changed in the last ten minutes. The three kids were deathly silent, Misty and Brock huddled around the distraught boy between them. Their heads immediately turned as Jay's steps became perceptible.

He shuddered as he took in the sight of Ash's face. He couldn't believe how much he resembled Delia in that moment. He saw her eyes in his distressed ones, and his heart fell.

"Ash," he said softly.

"Dad?" he replied, jumping to his feet. "What's the matter?"

Jay's face and voice were comforting. "Come upstairs. Come on." He beckoned for him to come, and Ash carefully set Pikachu on the couch, casting one more uneasy glance at his friends. They half-smiled, almost as in blessing, and that was all he needed to dash to his father's side.

"Daddy? What's going on? Is Mom okay?" he asked frenetically as he trailed restively behind Jay.

"It's okay, Ash, she's fine," he replied gently, taking hold of his shoulders and ushering him to the front. "Mom wants to talk to you. It's okay."

"What's the matter with her? Is she mad at me for what I said?" 

"No. Everything's fine. She just wants to see you."

Ash didn't seem convinced. "Oh man," he whimpered.

Jay didn't know who sounded more troubled—his son or his wife. He could feel Ash's body shivering beneath his hands. He squeezed his shoulders reassuringly as they approached the bedroom.

Delia's head lifted as Jay pushed the door open, and instantly, she and Ash became aware of each other. Ash flinched as he took in her appearance, a rush of guilt quickly invading him. 

__

What did I do_?_ he asked himself dejectedly.

"Ash?" Delia whispered, as if affirming it was really him.

Her longing voice struck Ash with a bolt of emotion. "Mama!?" he squealed in reply. 

"Ash!" She held out her arms and he rushed to her without a moment of delay, crashing into her swallowing embrace.

"Oh, Ash," she sighed as he promptly buried his face into her shoulder and let the waterworks loose. She hugged her boy with all the love she could muster, desperate to amend the anguish she had caused him. 

"I'm sorry, Mommy!" Ash bawled, clamping onto her clothes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!"

His crying induced hers once again. "No, Ash!" she insisted. "_I'm _sorry! I'm sorry for what I said to you!"

"I'm sorry I made you upset!" Ash went on, as if he hadn't heard her apology. "I—I—I didn't m-mean to come home late! I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it . . . !"

"It's okay," she hushed, stroking his back soothingly. "I know you couldn't help it. And I'm sorry I gave you so much trouble over it. I really, _really_ am."

Ash pulled his head away from her shoulder. "You know I would always come home when you want me to," he testified. Delia gazed into his dirty, wet face and smiled sadly. His eyes squinted from the tears. "I was going to come home! I didn't want to s-s-scare you!"

She was overcome with how regretful he was over something that wasn't his fault. "I know you were going to," she replied. She tenderly removed his hat and brushed his bangs away from his clammy forehead. "I know you would never purposely stay out later."

Despite this, Ash shut his eyes painfully and cried into her shoulder again. Delia smiled compassionately, looking over at Jay, who had since seated himself beside her on the bed. He was smiling somberly, as well, and gave her a heartening nod. Her smile fading slightly, Delia patted Ash's back.

"Come on, baby, shhhh," she said. "Come sit on the bed."

Ash sniffled and obeyed, rising from his semi-squatting position on the floor and plopped down beside her. At once, his weary head found its previous place on her shoulder, and his arms extended around her waist. His mother squeezed him back. 

"I didn't mean what I called you, sweetheart," she told him. "You're not a brat—you _never_ are. I . . . I was upset, I wasn't thinking right. That's the only reason why I called you that. It's not true. I'm sorry."

"No," he mumbled. "I _am_ a brat. This is all my fault!"

"No, it's not your fault," she replied firmly. Ash looked up. "Ash . . . you coming home late worried me, but . . . that's not the entire reason I'm so upset. I—I haven't . . . been feeling well lately, and I was just taking it out on you. You shouldn't be apologizing at all, _I _should be. I'm the one who's wrong in this."

Ash hung his head. "But I was so fresh to you."

Delia blinked considerately. "You might've been fresh, but you didn't deserve to have me make you feel bad like that. I should've just been happy that you're home."

"But—but you and Dad are right!" Ash continued to argue. He didn't know why he was so heedlessly disagreeing with her that he was the innocent one in the whole ordeal, but it made him feel a whole world better. "I made mistakes tonight, and if I hadn't, none of that stuff with the Ursaring would've happened! None of it would've _happened!_ We—we would've come home on time, and I wouldn't've worried you . . . Pikachu . . . Pikachu would be okay . . ."

Thinking of the horrors of that night, Ash began to blubber again. "And . . . a-a-and my Pokédex . . . my Pokédex . . . Mom, it's broken, it's smashed to pieces! I—I need that; if I don't have that, I can't train anymore! And oh man, Professor Oak's gonna b-be so mad! He's not gonna give me a new one!"

"Awww," Delia chuckled feebly, bringing his head in to kiss it. "Don't worry about that! He'll give you a new Pokédex, you know he will. I'll talk to him. He'll give you one, I promise."

"But I did so many wrong things tonight," Ash lamented disgracefully. "I don't even deserve a new one."

"Don't say that, Ash," Jay spoke up. Ash lifted his head and looked sheepishly at his father, who gave him a solacing smile. "You just made a simple mistake. It's okay. The important thing is that you're all right."

Delia couldn't have said it better herself. "That's right," she agreed. "And that's why this is my fault. I should've just been happy that you're okay; it was wrong for me to go crazy like that on you. It's just that . . . I worry about you, and . . . even though I know you can take care of yourself, that still doesn't mean you're safe from danger at all times."

Ash wiped his runny nose. "I know. I feel the same way, too," he admitted. "I get scared a lot—I did tonight."

Delia nodded reasonably. "I just want you to be a little more careful out there from now on. I know you can do that for me. Just so . . . just so I don't have to worry as much. Because . . ." She sighed, and lowered her voice gently. ". . . Even though I still like to think of you as my baby, I realize you're right—you are growing up, and . . . and I have to accept that. But . . . the thing is, you're never too old for me to lose you."

Ash paused as he thought of this. Even though it was technically the same thing she had wailed at him during the grilling turned ugly, her softened words meant a great difference now. He understood her fear better. Gazing into her face, he gave her a weak but comprehending smile.

"You're right," he responded. "I should be more careful. I do a lot of reckless things sometimes." He took a deep, shaky breath and gave her promising eyes. "But I swear I'll be more careful from now on. I don't want you to be afraid."

Delia gave him the most heartfelt smile, and brought him in for a hug. "Thank you, Ash. That's all I wanted to hear."

"And . . . and what I said before?" Ash started, giving her a repentant look, which he then forced into an almost silly grin. "You know . . . about not wanting to be babied? Heh, I . . . I didn't really mean that. You can baby me whenever you want."

A blush appeared amidst his tear-strewn face, slightly embarrassed to have revealed that. Deep down, he was a truly affectionate person, a trait he was fully aware of but not always confident enough to publicize. He knew his mother was aware of that, though. The nourishing look that emerged on her face made his spirits lift.

"Just . . . try not to do it in front of my friends, okay?" he added with a small cringe, and his parents broke into subdued laughter.

"What fun is that, then?" Jay joked. He was relieved that happiness was finally starting to settle in the disrupted atmosphere.

"_Daaad_," Ash groaned, dumping his head onto his mom's shoulder.

"Aww, don't listen to him. I'll try my best, honey," Delia vowed, giggling. Her laughter, though, didn't last long as the word _baby_ sent a chill cascading through her veins. For a second, everything had seemed to be going smoothly, conflicts were being mended. But the real issue, the devastating one that had yet to gain Ash's knowledge, was still in waiting.

There was a moment of silence, one that Delia knew was the opening she so reluctantly needed. She recited another brief prayer in her head, and shifted to impel Ash to sit up.

"Ash . . . sweetie," she said, her tone dropping seriously. "I—I'm glad we got that all cleared up. That makes me feel a lot better."

Ash smiled, ridding his face of its lingering tears. He looked so cheered up, consoled. For a second, Delia felt horrible for daring to destroy that.

"But," she proceeded, "there's something else I have to tell you."

She felt Jay's hand tenderly begin to rub her lower back, and she basked in the simple comfort. She needed all she could get. Though Jay was also apprehensive, the dread seizing her was indefinable. 

"What is it, Ma?"

"Um, about what you said before. I realize—well, what you said actually, Ash, is . . . sorta good in a way."

Her son's face bunched in confusion. "Huh?"

Delia threw a fearful glance at Jay. He gave her another go-ahead of encouragement, and her stomach leapt.

"Mama, what do you mean what I said was good?" Ash inquired, shocked to hear such an odd thing. All he could think of was how terrible his words had been, how hurtful and mean. It was all in defense, but he hadn't meant them. He'd made her cry, which he never, ever intended to do. How could his mother possibly say they had done good?

Delia took a deep breath. "Ash dear," she said quietly, taking his hands, "what you said before—well, it reminded me that I . . . I haven't exactly been truthful with you lately."

Ash tilted his head. "Y-you mean you've been lying?"

"Well . . . no, not really," she replied hesitantly. "I just haven't been telling you a lot of things I should have."

Panic took over her son's face. "What do you mean?" he asked timorously. "What haven't you told me?"

__

How am I going to tell him? She didn't know what to say, how to begin. The effect her loss had on Ash had begun since his hair dying, more than a week ago. She would start there; having a chance to rectify and explain all the pain she'd caused him in one fell swoop, she wasn't going to deny the opportunity.

"Ash, I—I know I haven't been very fair to you lately," she said prudently. "Everything with you dying your hair, and going all crazy on you last night and now _today_ . . . And just being so . . . distant, as I have been, and not being myself . . ." She looked up to see that Ash was incredibly baffled. "There's a reason behind all of that. One that . . . I've been hiding."

At this, Ash recalled all his observations of his mother's recent behavior, and his heart began to pump. The look of seriousness she was giving him was beginning to upset him greatly.

"What, Mom?" he whispered.

Delia looked down and grit her teeth. "A couple of weeks ago . . . I found out I was pregnant."

Her son was flabbergasted for a second, but rapidly, a grin of sheer surprise lifted his lips. "What!? You—you're pregnant?" he gasped before she had the chance to continue, excitement peeking in his tone. He practically jumped to his feet. "You're pregnant!? You're gonna have a baby!?"

Thrill and happiness took complete hold of Ash, rendering him oblivious to the fact that his parents did not share his beam. Delia blinked tortuously while Jay turned away, as if Ash's rapture was too painful to witness.

Delia knew she had to clear this up swiftly, but it hurt her so to do it. Her glassy eyes lifted to meet Ash's widened ones. "Oh, sweetheart . . . no," she shook her head.

Slowly, Ash's smile faded away, and his face attained another look of confusion. "What . . . whaddah ya mean, no?"

His mother swallowed the agonizing lump in her throat. "Ash . . . I lost the baby." 

Ash just gaped at her, stunned into silence by the hard blow that was abruptly delivered to his system. He couldn't comprehend what he was hearing—he knew what she meant, of course, but it couldn't be true. He wouldn't believe it. Delia felt his pain and shock, her stomach sinking at the sight. But before she had a chance to ease the trauma, Ash's face constricted horribly as tears pooled in his eyes.

"Oh, honey," she moaned, catching Ash in her arms as he began to sob. He grasped back desperately. "Honey, honey, shhh! No, don't cry."

He didn't listen. He couldn't. Delia held her distressed boy in her arms, rocking him and shushing into his ear quietly, but he didn't calm down. He was crying even more loudly than he had before, and his parents winced painfully at his reaction.

"Don't cry," Delia said again.

"Come on, kiddo. It's all right," Jay said soothingly, reaching over to rub his son's back. Ash's response was a furious shake of his head.

"Noooo," he cried. He lifted his head away from his mom's chest, looking imploringly into her eyes, begging her to tell him it was a fallacy. "You lost the baby? You lost it?" he managed to utter, sobs cracking his voice. 

Delia nodded sadly. "Yes," she whispered.

"You mean . . ." he attempted, his train of thought striving, ". . . you're not having a baby anymore?"

His hurt-filled tone made her eyes sting. "No."

"Wh-what happened?"

"I had a miscarriage, Ash," she clarified carefully. 

The word sent a vicious chill running through his racked body. He couldn't imagine anything like that ever happening to her. "Why, though? How could that happen?"

"Oh, sweetheart," she replied sullenly, shaking her head, "the baby wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy."

"But . . . why not?" he asked.

"I don't know," Delia said despondently, trying to think of ways to explain it without disturbing him any more. "I don't know the reason why exactly. But God knew it wasn't healthy, and . . . He let it go. Because He knew it wouldn't have been right if it'd been born—it just would've brought a lot of pain."

__

But why did it have to happen to you_?_ Ash wanted to ask, but he could say no more. He shut his eyes and succumbed to his crying again, having no strength to fight it. Delia massaged his shoulder but said nothing, allowing him to get his pain out. Combined with the anguish of the entire day, this ultimately broke his heart. To think that there would have been a new addition to their family, a brother or sister he could have called his own; to think how happy it would have made his parents and himself; to think of the joy the anticipation and arrival would have brought—he couldn't bear to think about it! Why did it have to be _this_ way? Why couldn't his mom just be having the baby instead of—?

"Ahh!" Ash suddenly yelped, startling his parents. Delia reeled back as he threw his hands to his mouth, looking positively horrified all of sudden. "What—what I said to you! What I told you before about . . . a-a-about having another baby! I—I told you t-to go and have another . . . !"

At the loath recalling of what he had so spitefully shouted at his mother, Ash immediately broke into uncontrollable crying. His hands pulled at his hair as he gave Delia the most regretful and ashamed look he could produce. 

"_I'm so sorry!_" he cried before she had an opportunity to say a word. "I can't believe I said that to you! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! O-oh my God! I'm sorry, I didn't know—!"

Delia quickly put on a smile. "It's okay, Ash, it's okay!" she replied hastily, but as she went to tenderly grab his shoulders to restrain him, he leapt off the bed and retreated a few feet away, his head shaking in mortified disgust of himself. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean—"

"I'm sorry!" he continued to apologize profusely. How could he have said such a thing!? How could he have been so ruthless? He began to cough as his fit churned his stomach in nausea, but it didn't influence him to calm himself. "I'm sorry!"

Delia quickly got to her feet. "Sweetheart, listen to me, it's okay!" she asserted, her face forgiving. 

Ash couldn't accept that. "No, no it's not okay! That was so _horrible_ what I said to you! It's not okay!"

"Ash, calm down!" Jay said, getting up as well. He strode over to him and held out his hand with intentions of pulling him into a hug, but Ash just shook his head and refused, dodging.

__

My God, he thought, astonished. _He's taking this worse than Delia!_

"Stop! Honey, it's fine!" Delia said, keeping her smile in hopes that it would quell his violent agony. 

Finally, Ash gave up evading her and permitted her to seize him in a hug, one he didn't return. He couldn't welcome it; he didn't deserve a hug, and he didn't want one. His guilt tormented him, making him despise himself for what he had said and done. Delia thought the opposite, not wanting to release him from the loving embrace until he realized she wasn't angry with him. She cradled his head as Jay caressed her shoulders, gazing affectionately at his son and hoping he would let up soon.

"Shhh, come on, stop crying now," Delia whispered sweetly.

"It's okay, Ash," Jay said, tousling his son's head softly. "Calm down, everything's all right."

"No, it's not all right!" Ash disagreed, wiggling defiantly in Delia's grip. "You shouldn't be hugging me! That was awful what I said to you! You should be killing me for that!"

Just for that, Delia smiled and brought him in closer. "No. I'm gonna hug you. You need to be hugged."

"No, I don't!" he whined in reply. "I can't believe I said that to you! I don't deserve to be hugged!"

"Then why am I hugging you?" Delia asked, feeling Ash begin to yield.

"I don't know, but you shouldn't! You should kill me for what I said to you! I deserve it, I feel s-so _bad!_"

"Oh, Ash," Delia sighed. She rested her head upon his, who at that point became engulfed enough in his sniffling to stop struggling. He still didn't want to be in such a merciful closeness, as it just made his remorse increase. Thinking of what she went through and how poorly he had behaved himself recently, he couldn't understand why she was so willing to absolve him. _He_ wouldn't have forgiven him if he was her. Deep down, as much as he wanted to receive her affection, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

As he continued to cry, albeit more quietly now, Jay gave Delia a soft nudge. She loosened her hug on Ash, and Jay moved in to collect him in his arms. Surprisingly, Ash gave no resistance.

"Come here, you," Jay groaned as he lifted him. He made his way to the bed and sat, seating Ash limply on his lap. Delia sat beside them.

"No, I won't," Ash feebly said, a little too late. Jay chuckled.

"No, you're not gonna say no," he told him, smiling into his red eyes. "You're gonna listen to me. In fact, this goes for both of you. We're gonna clear some stuff up right now." He turned to Delia for an agreeing nod. 

"Now then," he said lightly, turning to Ash. "A lot happened tonight, and a lot of stuff was said. Stuff that wasn't meant." Ash hung his head, but Jay bounced his knee to get his attention. "Hey, but we know you didn't mean what you said. And Mommy didn't mean what she said to you, either. It just . . . all of this happened at a very bad, very hectic time."

Ash shook his head. "But it wasn't just tonight. I've been so rotten this whole week."

"No you haven't," Delia replied delicately. "The only times you acted that way was when I wasn't being fair to you. And I realize I haven't been lately—with _a lot_ of stuff."

"But still, I shouldn't have said that to you—about the . . . having a baby thing," Ash said apologetically. "Whether you—whether this happened to you or not, I shouldn't have said anything like that—_ever_. And I'm so sorry . . ."

"We know," Jay nodded. "And it's okay—we forgive you for that."

Ash looked to Delia for vindication, which he received with her gentle smile. At last, he let himself ease, accepting the pardon he still didn't entirely want. If she was okay with it, he wasn't going to oppose. But it didn't stop him from making the mental pledge to do whatever she wished of him for the remainder of his stay at home, to be as good and respectful to her as he could be—his only way to make up for what he had done.

"But Ash, like I said, I'm glad you said that tonight," Delia said.

"But I don't understand," Ash stammered. "Why?"

"If you hadn't have said that, I . . . I don't know how long I would've kept this a secret. Both from you and your dad."

Ash's eyebrows rose. "You mean you didn't tell Dad, either?"

"She was afraid to," Jay answered for her. He stroked Ash's hair as Delia hung her head slightly. "She only told me tonight because she remembered—well . . . she knew how upsetting it was, and she didn't want to make any of us upset. Since there was nothing we could do _but _get sad over it, she figured that, well, maybe it was best that she didn't say anything at all."

"But I realized how wrong that was," Delia said. "And I want you to remember that, sweetheart: if something ever happens to you, even if it's bad and you're afraid to tell anyone—even me or Daddy—don't hesitate to. Sometimes the best thing to do is to let others know so that maybe they can help you."

"But what could we've done?" Ash cringed. "I mean, the baby's gone . . ."

"You couldn't have done anything about that, no," she replied with rueful honesty. "But just telling you tonight made me feel so much better. I'm still sad about what happened, but holding in that sadness wasn't good. Because that just made the pain worse."

"Yeah," Ash nodded, looking down. "I understand."

Delia exchanged a brief look with Jay, who gave her a smile as he pulled Ash's head close to his chest. Their son closed his eyes as he rested upon him, beginning to fully calm himself. Delia smiled as she gazed at his repose, but she knew there was more to tell him. For a moment, she debated whether she was going to relay to him that this wasn't the first occurrence of its kind in her life, but she knew she had to. He had a right to know everything now.

"Ash," she whispered, and he opened his eyes. "There's a little more that I have to tell you. But . . . it happened a long time ago, and everything's okay now, so you don't have to be upset over it."

This certainly grabbed Ash's attention, who sat up instantly. "What?" he asked.

Already Delia could tell he was getting uneasy, and desperately tried to pacify her voice. "It's okay, I said. It's nothing to get worried about. This, um . . ." She took a deep breath. "This isn't the first time I lost a baby."

Ash's eyes widened. "What!? This happened before?" he gasped incredulously. 

Her expression dreadfully confirmed it was true, however, as she nodded sadly. "Yes, Ash, but it happened very long ago," she reminded him hastily.

"Wh-when?" he uttered, getting a comforting squeeze from his father that did nothing for him.

"When you were about six, dear," she answered. "I had a miscarriage, and—and I didn't tell you because you were so young; you wouldn't have understood. But I'm telling you now so that you know."

Ash was aghast. Just how much did she have to tell him? And how much worse could it _get_ . . . ? "But—but why does this keep happening to you?" he said, his voice trembling. He didn't even know if wanted to know the answer; he was seconds away from putting his hands over his ears. All he could frightfully imagine was the discovery that she was sick, that he would never have a brother or sister. Though he grew to be eleven with no sibling, he never gave up hope that he would hear the happy news he was always prepared for. Even after his parents separated, that hope never completely died.

"I don't know," Delia said, wishing she knew exactly why herself. "It's not because I'm sick, thank goodness—the doctor told me that. He said the reason why I've lost two babies is that either they weren't healthy, that there was some sort of problem with them that didn't allow them to continue to grow properly, or that . . . there's the slight possibility that I was working too hard."

Ash perked at this. He felt considerably better, of course, to hear that she was not afflicted, but to now be told that she was possibly the reason behind it sparked his interest.

Delia noticed his expression. "Oh, Ash, it's not that I was trying to overexert myself, but it's sometimes hard to just sit around and relax. Could you imagine being told that you have to stop doing everything you do normally for nine months?"

Ash smiled weakly. "No way. I'd go crazy," he said truthfully, and his parents chuckled.

"Well, that's how I feel, too," his mother went on with a grin, happy that so far he was taking this well. She half-expected him to break into tears again, but fortunately he was quiet and alert, trying to comprehend. "I was trying to take it easy, but when there's stuff to be done, and chores to do, and . . . rowdy little boys running around the house . . ." Ash giggled bashfully as she tickled under his chin. "It's kinda hard."

"Well, all you had to do was tell me," he said. "I woulda done all that stuff for you!"

Delia cocked her eye at him. "Oh really? This coming from the kid I have to practically lock in his room to make him clean it!"

Ash blushed, but narrowed his eyes at her in silliness. "Hey, my room is clean!"

Jay made a playful scowl. "Define clean."

"Dad!" he groaned, getting his hair ruffled vigorously. He pouted. "I try to keep it clean."

His dad laughed. "I know you do, squirt."

Ash turned back to Delia. "But I'm serious! I'd really help you if—well . . . if you got pregnant again." He smiled timidly. "You're . . . going to, right?"

She blinked gently. "I certainly hope so. Your dad and I really want to, and we're gonna try hard. We won't give up." 

"That's right," Jay resolved.

The way Ash's smile grew exuberantly made Delia's head float with happiness. The optimism she pushed in her voice prompted this feeling, too; this was the first time she allowed herself to think so positively since the incident. She couldn't believe how much better it felt than giving up.

"That's great!" Ash exclaimed. Despite the impacting news that had been unveiled to him so harshly, the simple promise in his mom's tone made all his sadness wash away. His voice became perky. "And I promise if you do I'll help you everyday with anything you need! I'll cook and clean, and you can sit down and relax like you're supposed to!"

Chuckling, Delia folded her arms. "And how are you gonna do that if you're on your Pokémon journey, mister?" she chirped.

Ash suddenly cringed, and pondered quickly. "Ummm . . . w-well, I'll stay home! Yeah, yeah! I won't leave, I'll stay home and make sure you're okay and that all the work gets done! 'Cause that's what's most important!"

Through his spontaneous, little pledge, Delia and Jay swapped frivolously knowing looks, both amused at his urge to give up everything he loved to help. Of course, they also knew how hard it would be for Ash to keep such a promise, as he was merely responding from his recent feelings rather than long contemplation.

"That's very sweet of you, honey," Delia cooed as he finished, "but you won't have to do that. If—_when _I get pregnant again, I'll be sure to take care of myself, I promise. I'm not going to have you give up going on your journey just for me."

Ash actually looked relieved as she said that. He ducked his head slightly. "Well . . . I just wanna make sure you'll be okay . . ."

"I will be. Besides," his mother smirked, throwing an impishly haughty look at Jay, "your father'll probably confine me to my bed for the whole nine months as soon as he finds out."

"Ha, you're damn straight!" Jay huffed, laughing afterwards. Ash shared a broad smile with his dad, who gave him a crushing hug. "I'll hire a maid if I have to—she's gonna sit and nurture that baby whether she likes it or not! Right, bud?"

"Right!" Ash replied.

The three laughed heartily, all seeming to forget the tragic reason that had brought them together in the first place. There were no more tears and no more depression, at least for that moment, and slowly, Ash and Delia were beginning to fall into that realization. Delia especially, discovering she felt ten times better than she had the entire week. To get the secret off her chest and be able to fully declare her desire to try again in what had twice set her back so dismally was a captivating sensation.

"Sooo," Jay sang, breaking from his laughter, "we settled a lot tonight, didn't we? We're all better now, right?"

"I feel better," Ash replied, his eyes sparkling.

"And how about Mommy?" Jay said, lifting an eyebrow at Delia.

"How 'bout you, Mommy?" Ash grinned. "You feel better, too?"

Delia took a deep, refreshing breath, and answered what she truly felt in her heart. "I feel wonderful."

"Well, that's great, then!" Jay proclaimed, grabbing Ash and jumping to his feet spiritedly. Ash yelped happily as his father hoisted him into his arms and swung him around, complaining none of his son's healthy weight. "'Cause this is no time to be sad, anyway! We all got a big day coming up Sunday! Or did everyone forget that?"

"I didn't!" Ash giggled, the reminder of the looming day of his parents' second wedding sending a surge of rapture and excitement through his body. He couldn't believe how fast it had come, and the thought of what fun there was in store for them made him shiver. "I can't wait!"

"Good! But we gotta remind your mother," Jay teased with a wink. "I think she forgot."

"How could I forget _that?_" Delia gasped, facetiously insulted. She gave Jay a tremendous, passionate smile and finally rose from the bed. "I wish it were tomorrow."

Jay laughed, groaning through it as he handed Ash over to her. "Here, take your son. He's breaking my back."

"What!? No!" Delia, shrieking playfully, could only helplessly accept the laughing Ash into her arms as Jay practically tossed him to her, but she only held him for two seconds before he slid through her grasp. "My goodness, you're heavy! Did you gain weight overnight?"

"I probably did!" Ash said, which he didn't entirely doubt. With the lack of exercise and the increase of meals since being home, he wondered just _how_ much he'd gained.

"You're getting to be such a big boy," Delia marveled, shaking her head. "I think I'd better get in all the babying I can with you before it's too late!" Ash blushed, and swept his arms around her in a hug.

"I'm gonna promise you one thing, though," he told her as she hugged him back. "I promise I'm not going to do anything to make you mad anymore. Even things I don't mean. I'm going to be as good as I can _all_ the time."

Delia and Jay had to smile at such willingness.

"That's a big promise to make," Delia said. "I don't think you should go making one quite so big."

"But I want to!" Ash insisted. "After what happened tonight, I don't want to make you upset anymore—for _any_ reason! That's why—that's why I decided that it's okay that you moved Misty, and that you want me to help a lot around here, and be good and all that stuff! I _want_ to do those things. I hate making you upset and I'm gonna try my best not to do it ever again."

His mother gazed at him for a few moments as she took this in, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Well, if that's what you want," she grinned, "I'm certainly not going to try to change your mind."

"It is what I want," affirmed Ash with a nod. "And I'm gonna do it, you watch."

"I dunno," Jay sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "You're quite a little punk to take on such a project." He laughed and knelt down to Ash's level. "But you're a good punk, that's for sure. I respect that in ya."

Ash smiled pleasantly. He was going to try to keep that promise as best as he could, no matter how hard it would be. For such understanding and amazing parents, he was eager to do anything for them.

"Thanks, Daddy," he replied breathlessly.

Jay smiled ardently. He threw a glance up to his wife. "So whaddah ya say? Should we go down and tell the other two punks?"

Ash chuckled at that comment, but became tense, too. He wondered how Brock and Misty would take the news, but his curiosity was nothing compared to Delia's. She ground her teeth as she thought of it, but didn't hesitate nodding in agreement. They had every right to know, as well, and it would certainly be easier to tell them now that she had so much support.

"All right, let's do it, then," Jay said, patting Ash's shoulder. 

They exited, Delia holding onto the hands of the two men she loved more than life itself. At that instant, despite all that hardships, despite all the letdowns, she realized just how lucky she really was.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

Well, I finally got it done, yayness! Sorry it's a few days late, but I wanted to make sure I was completely happy with it before I uploaded. It's a relief, too, because this is really the last sad-type chapter of the story—from here on it's gonna go back to the way it was, all happy and such but still a lotta good stuff going on. Next up, the long-awaited second wedding! ^__^

Thanks for reading everyone! I haven't begun chapter 16 yet, but I assure you I'll get it out as soon as possible. ^_^ Till then!


	16. Renewals

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 16

Renewals . . .

"Okay . . . cross, under . . . up, through—ugh! Cross, under, up, through—no. _Ugggh!_ Cross, under . . . under—cross, under . . . No, no! Cross. Under. Up—_grrr!_"

"Ash!" Misty griped, jerking her head up from the makeup mirror she was stooped over. One eye glimmered of pale blue eye shadow, the other yet to be tinted. "Would you _please_ stop talking to yourself!? It's _so_ annoying!"

Ash slouched, releasing the necktie he'd been battling to fix for the past few minutes. "I can't, Misty! I have to talk myself through it otherwise I don't remember how to do it," he complained in aggravation.

"Well, talk in over in your head!" she huffed, spinning back to the mirror. "I don't need to hear you do it, apparently since it's going to take you _all day_."

Ash's face reddened. "It isn't gonna take me all day!" he retorted hotly. He suddenly sweatdropped. "It's just . . . gonna take a little longer than usual 'cause Dad's not here. But I can do it!"

Misty, the eye-shadow brush poised over her eye, sent him a derisive smirk through the reflection. "_Sure_."

"Hey!" Ash barked, taking the tie in his hands. "I will, you watch!" It couldn't be that hard, really—after all, his dad had gone over it with him slowly and clearly the night of the second date. Only now Ash wished he'd paid more attention rather than daydreaming.

"Cross, under . . . up, through . . ." he began to mumble, only for the tie to end up in a disgraceful knot. "Aw, man!"

Misty shook her head humorously, while Pikachu, finding the spectacle quite entertaining as well, had to laugh.

"Oh gee, thanks, Pikachu," Ash frowned at his Pokémon, who was adorned with a charming bow tie that had simply been slipped over his head. "Like you have anything to say!"

"Pi!" Pikachu flicked his ears prankishly. Misty snorted, much to Ash's displeasure, whose scowl denoted just how much he _enjoyed_ being made fun of for his innocent incompetence.

"Oh, come here," Brock sighed wearily. Ash almost tripped over his own feet as Brock yanked him over and took hold of his tie. "Look, it's easy. Pay attention! You watching? Cross, under, up, through, pull, tighten." He did it all flawlessly, but practically choked him at the end. "Got it?"

"Uh . . . I think so," Ash blinked, staring at the tie in awe. "Wow! Thanks, Brock!"

His friend, already fully dressed in his striking garb, saluted. "No problem. And put some cologne on. It'll make you smell nice."

Ash eyed the bottle tossed his way distrustfully, sniffed it, and applied it. Misty shot Brock a cheeky smile.

"See? You're impressing your girl," Brock said, giving him a thumbs-up. Ash blushed.

Misty didn't need Ash doused in cologne to dazzle her, though. As soon as he had stepped out of the bathroom in his new suit, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. The sleek black pants and pressed white shirt were a whole new look to him, slowly bringing out the handsome features from behind his boyish character. Now decked out in his tie and slipping into his jacket, Misty had to do everything to keep herself to task. Having half-an-hour to complete her hair and what was probably only her third attempt at putting on a decent face of makeup in her life, she was a bit restless.

In fact, it was a little unusual for all the kids, as they had never been so fancily dressed together in one setting before. But as the room flooded with the bright sunlight of a magnificent day, and all around the hustle of activity about the preserve could be felt, they were too excited to marvel over the differences. For the past hour, they had been dashing around Professor Oak's house from one room to the other, all frantic to get ready on time. Clothes littered the floor, the bathroom was steamy from three successive showers, and now thanks to Ash and Brock, the room reeked of after-shave. 

Through the jumble they were boisterous and happy—Ash especially. He couldn't keep from looking out the window every once in a while, casting wondrous eyes down at the busy scene below. Everything had arrived the day before, and was now in the final stages of being arranged. Large, white tents stretched across the backyard, harboring a glossy dance floor in the middle. Further off to the side stood the makeshift altar, an archway of pink ribbons and flowers, and a sea of beautiful white chairs facing it. 

__

I can't wait—this is gonna be so awesome! he thought mystically, slipping into another of his reveries.

"Okay, guys, how do I look?" Misty asked. She had just finished with her makeup and was now smoothing down her silver dress delicately. Ash's eyes wandered up and down the ravishing outfit, amazed. He'd never seen her dressed so elegantly; silky against her figure and flowing gracefully to her knees, the dress made her look more beautiful then he could ever imagine.

"Whoa," he said, a bit dumbfounded. "You look . . . _really nice_."

He immediately hated how simple that sounded. There was much more he could have said to elaborate on how captivated he was, but there were too many adjectives racing through his brain at once to figure them out. To his relief, Misty glowed; that was all she needed to hear.

"Aww, thank you, Ash," she said sweetly. She tucked her ginger hair behind her ears and felt tenderly for the clips that held it in place, cocking an eyebrow at Brock.

"What do you think, Brock?" she added, twirling around with a sprightly spring. Her dress shone in the sunlight, bright enough to match her smile. She was obviously rather enthralled with it.

He whistled. "Absolutely stunning," he replied, running a cool hand through his gelled hair. "How 'bout me?"

Misty grinned. "Handsome, handsome," she answered with a playfully flirty eye.

"Haha, all right!" Brock clapped, bounding to the window. "Just wait till I get down there and all the _girls _see me! I won't be able to keep them away!"

The smile on Misty's face fell exasperatedly. "Oh please, Brock," she groaned, "don't scare away all the guests before the wedding even begins."

Ash giggled. "Yeah, Brock, don't go hitting on my mom's waitresses again. They weren't too happy about that the last time."

Brock, who had since locked his eyes on one of the said girls scurrying around to get everything ready below, didn't even catch Ash's whimsical warning. Misty shook her head.

"He can keep dreaming," she sighed, waving it away. "But I think we're gonna have to keep an eye on him later on."

"Mm-hmm," Ash nodded, finding it hard to keep his grin away as he watched Brock drool out the window.

"You look really nice, too, Ash," Misty suddenly said. 

"Huh?" He turned to see her smiling softly at him, taking in his courtly attire with an admirable look. 

"I never thought I'd see you in a suit like that."

Bashfully, Ash shrugged and gestured toward her with a nod. "Well, I never thought I'd see you in such . . . a beautiful dress like that."

Her blush swiftly returned. "You should get dressed up more often," she told him. "I like you in a suit. You look really handsome, too."

"Thanks! But I would need an occasion for it," Ash said, scratching the back of his head embarrassingly.

"That's true," Misty admitted. "Guess we're gonna have to go to more parties, huh?"

"Guess so. I wouldn't mind that one bit!" Ash replied, feeling excited as he thought of the party that would begin ever so shortly. He didn't mind how stiff and uncomfortable he felt in his suit; nothing could damper the anticipation twitching in his limbs. He was impelled to look out at the scene again, but Brock was too busy hanging halfway out the window with spying eyes.

"Hey, we should be going down soon, shouldn't we?" Misty said, twisting to look at the clock beside the bed. She then hastened to the mirror to check her hair again, and Ash smirked.

"Don't worry, Misty. We have plenty of time. Besides," he added, drawing himself in phobically, "if I go down there too early I'll have a bunch of relatives going all crazy to see me and tell me how big I've gotten."

Brock whirled around abruptly. "Relatives?" he asked interestedly. "You mean like . . . girl relatives? Cousins? Aunts? . . . Nieces?"

"_Nieces!?_" Misty exclaimed incredulously and almost irritatedly. "How dim-witted can you be, Brock? How can Ash possibly have nieces?" Ash laughed, while Brock winced sheepishly.

"Oops. Hehe, got a little carried away there," he grinned, his face crimson.

"Well, _whoever _you meant, you aren't getting them," Misty scoffed. "Like they're gonna want you slobbering over them, anyway. Right, Ash?"

Ash shrugged impassively. "He can try. I barely see any of them, anyway."

"All right!" Brock thrust a fist into the air jubilantly. "So he does have some! But . . . they _are_ single, right?"

Misty dumped her head in her palm. "Oh, boy." Not that she cared at all what he did at the reception—well, she _did_ care, as sometimes Brock's hormones caused him to lose touch with his brain, but being his babysitter was the least of her concerns. What she and Ash would do, however, swarmed her mind wildly. The food, the partying, the dancing—she would be with him at all times, enjoying it to the fullest. She could barely keep her heart from racing as her head drifted blissfully, thinking of the fun they would have together.

A sudden knock at the door startled the kids slightly. They turned as an animated Jay flung the door open, a smile sweeping from ear to ear.

"Dad!" Ash cried elatedly. He hadn't seen his father since earlier that morning.

"Hey, punk, what's goin' on in here?" Jay replied, entering the room. His exquisite black suit instantly seized their attention, Misty most of all. She nearly gulped as a result of his irresistibly handsome appearance, praying she wasn't blushing as much as she feared.

"Nothing," his son smiled immensely, shrugging. "Getting ready."

"Getting ready?" Jay echoed whimsically. He stopped and sniffed the air. "Who's wearing after-shave?" He cocked a skeptical eye and pointed at Ash. "Certainly not _you!_"

"Yeah. Brock made me," Ash murmured, facetiously embittered.

"He made you? Well . . . good for you, Brock," he nodded towards the older boy commendably. "It's about time someone got this kid smelling good!"

"Shut up!" Ash squealed, giving him a playful shove. Jay guffawed, making Ash's heart leap with delight. He could tell Jay was undoubtedly in a jovial mood—his voice was gleeful, his eyes were glistening with ecstasy, and he was flamboyant with his motions. Ash loved when his father was like this; it always made his world feel carefree and secure. In that moment, he knew the day was going to be nothing short of remarkable.

"Whatcha doing here?" Ash asked.

"What am I doing here?" Jay repeated. His face suddenly wrinkled with apprehension. With a melodramatic whimper, he clutched hold of his son, and buried his face in his shoulder. "I'm scared, that's what I'm doing here! Hold me, boy, I'm scared! I'm scared!"

Jay's little performance made Ash grin. "Aww, don't be scared!" he played along. "Why ya scared?" His dad gazed into his face with quivering lower lip.

"I'm getting married!" he whined, shaking him. "I'm getting married today! _Married!_ That's it! I'm no longer a free man; I don't know if I can handle it!"

"Dad!" he giggled. "You already _are_ married. Remember?"

Releasing his grasp abruptly, Jay looked off thoughtfully. "Hey, yeah! That's right." He quickly righted himself, adjusting his tie proudly. "Almost forgot that."

Brock and Misty laughed, Jay's cheerful energy arousing them all the more. Ash was practically on his toes, his father's sudden visit getting his nerves hyped to the extreme. He adored every minute of this, but his expectancy was driving him to restless impatience. Seeing Jay all dressed and seemingly ready to get the show on the road was feeding that excitement generously.

"Are we going out soon?" Ash asked. "Where's Mom?"

"Your mother went into that room this morning and I haven't seen her since," Jay tsk-tsked, shaking his head. "But you know she'll be out soon, she's never late. Why, you wanted to see her?"

"Kinda," Ash replied. "But if she's getting ready, I don't wanna bother her."

"Nah, go knock on the door," Jay said reassuringly. "She'll let _you_ in—not me. She wants to do that whole I-don't-see-her-till-the-ceremony thing. Which is a-okay by me."

Ash smiled softly, taking a deep breath. "This is going to be great. Isn't it, Dad?"

His father shook his head with zestful assurance. "I doubt it'll be anything less," he proclaimed. He ruffled his hair. "Go see your mom. She'll be thrilled to see you—especially in that new suit of yours! Wow, she's gonna go crazy! Look at that, your tie's perfect and everything!" He reached out to tug it in amazement. "Did you get it all right? Was it hard?"

Ash gave him a timid smile. "Nope. That was Brock again."

"_Again?_" Jay exclaimed, the pep in his voice showing no sign of leaving. He turned towards Brock praisingly and extended his hand, which he shook proudly. "Oh man, what would I do without you, Brocko? Ashton probably wouldn't've been dressed. Thanks."

"Think nothing of it! I do what I can," replied Brock smugly.

"Glad to hear it," Jay nodded, diverting to Misty. "And you. Watch this kid, ya hear?" he bid her, pointing at Ash, who made a mischievous bite for his finger. "Make sure he don't pull any stunts during the ceremony. Beat 'im up if you have to—you know how to handle him."

Misty chortled giddily. "Will do!" she agreed a bit too freely.

Jay turned to find Ash with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed, all in good fun, of course. He just mimicked the look, and watched patiently as a smile helplessly pried at his son's pretend grimace. He just shook his head capriciously, and patted Ash's shoulder.

"All right, kiddies, I'm gonna head out now," he announced, starting for the door. "Gotta make sure people aren't wondering what the hell is going on or where we are. Be down in fifteen minutes the latest, okay?"

"We will," Misty affirmed.

"Oh, and Brock? Make sure Ash has his teeth brushed and he uses the bathroom once more," Jay winked.

"You got it!"

"_Dad!_ Go away!" Ash shrieked, turning red. Jay made a dash for safety, but even his last comment couldn't erase the smile from Ash's face. He stared at the vacant doorway, breathing affably. He hated to see Jay go, but there wouldn't be much time till he would see him again. He still had his mom to visit before the big event, after all. He hardly doubted that she was in just as cheery a mood as his dad was, stimulating him with even more happiness. 

Making Misty and Brock pledge not to leave without him, he hastened to her room. His fist hesitated before knocking, hoping that he wasn't disturbing her. But she had been in there all day—surely she was somewhat done by now. But he never knew.

"Who is it?" Delia's lively voice eased his minor concern. A smile soared across his face.

"It's me, Mom—Ash!"

"Oh, Ash! Hold on a sec, honey!" She sounded utterly thrilled, sending a wave of delight through him. He became antsy on his feet as she rushed over to unlock the door. It swung open, and he was greeted with a flood of sunlight and a fabulous smile.

"Hi!" he chirped, perky.

"Hi there!" she said just as happily, holding the door open invitingly. "Come in, come in!" 

Ash practically pranced in, his eyes bugging out at the sight of his mother as she closed the door behind him. He was astonished, to say the least. If Misty was glamorous, Delia was breathtaking. Ash swore he'd never seen her like this before. Her dress was the same color as Misty's, but longer and strapless. It flowed to her feet, which were bound in glittering, high-heeled silver sandals. Her auburn hair was drawn into a high twist, with long, curled strands framing her face gracefully.

"Wow, Mom," he gasped coquettishly. Delia had to grin at the way he ogled her. "You're so pretty."

She beamed humbly. "Thank you, sweetheart. But look at you! I—_look at you!_ You're so handsome! How did you get so handsome all of a sudden?"

Ash laughed at her pleasantly shocked tone, shrugging. She skipped over to him, giving the contented once-over.

"I knew this suit would look great on you!" she gushed. "It looks even better on you than it did in the store! How do you like it?"

"It's cool," Ash replied. "I'm dying for my sneakers and my hat, but it's cool."

Delia giggled. "Oh, you!" she patted his face. Her eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh, but you don't have a flower! You need a flower!"

Ash blinked, and looked down at his jacket, which was indeed lacking a flower. "Haha, look at that!" he smirked. "Brock missed something! I can't wait to tell Dad!"

His mom rushed to the dresser to take a white flower from her bouquet. "Why're gonna tell Dad?" she laughed, slipping it delicately into his lapel and brushing some lint off his shoulders.

"Heh, he thinks Brock dressed me," Ash explained.

"Oh, dear," his mom grinned, rolling her eyes. "Well, I certainly hope that's not true. When did you see him?"

"Before, in the room," he replied, motioning towards it with a nod. His lips curled into a silly smile. "He's scared, you know."

"Oh, really?" she replied, amused. "Well, actually, I'm not surprised. This _is_ the man who stuttered when he said 'I do' at our wedding."

Ash's jaw dropped. "He _did?_" he exclaimed in disbelief. "He stuttered when he said 'I do'?"

"Yes." Delia gave him a quirky look, shaking her head. She glanced at the ceiling in pleasant reminiscence. "It was really cute, though. I remember that day, holding onto his hands—I could _feel_ how nervous he was."

Ash tilted his head curiously. "I can't imagine Dad doing that," he said, trying vainly to picture the man he viewed as romantically articulate as being a jittery mess, especially at such an important time.

"Are you kidding? It's a wonder our hands stayed together with his sweaty palms! Trust me, he's had his moments," his mom smiled gently. "In fact, you watch him during the ceremony today . . . I betcha he'll come off as a totally different person. You won't believe that's your dad standing up there. I mean it, you watch."

"I'll do that," Ash breathed. "I gotta see it to believe it." 

He threw a brief glimpse at the window, at the daylight pouring through the sheer curtains. Outside he could hear a little commotion—good commotion, sending a tingle through his legs. His heart pounded for a moment. Turning back to his mom, he noticed she was gazing off as well, both of them lost in a world of indulgence.

"Did you see it down there?" he asked silently. Delia turned to him, her chestnut eyes blazing. "It's so cool—well, more than cool. It's . . . really, really great."

She blinked relishingly. "It is. I've been looking out there all morning."

"Me, too. Everything's perfect."

Delia looked over at the window again, taking a deep breath. "It's all because of you, you know."

Ash faltered momentarily, then smiled and shook his head. "Uh-uh. No, it's not."

Lingering in thought, Delia gave him an affectionate look. "Well . . . you're a big part of it, that's for sure. And you know it. Don't go into denial about that now. If it weren't for you, Ash . . . there's a good chance this probably wouldn't be happening right now."

He bit his lip; the hard truth did lurk in her tone. But Ash didn't have to think about that any longer. What was happening was real, and never again would he have to suffer the thought of what _could_ have dreadfully been.

His humility restricted him from responding. Absentmindedly, he slipped his hands into his pockets, finding it hard to tear his eyes away from Delia's soft and loving gaze. "I can't wait to see you and Dad out there," he said.

"Well, you won't have to wait long for that, sweetie," she replied, caressing his face. "We should all be getting down there real soon."

"I know."

They paused, then shared a devouring embrace. Delia kissed his cheek delicately, which Ash returned, and for a few seconds, neither wanted to leave the other's presence. The room was quiet and still, the atmosphere almost heavenly, but the muffled sounds of the upcoming event pricked their ears, breaking them from their serene lolling. 

"I should let you finish up," Ash suggested.

Delia nodded. "And you better go get down there. Get a good seat now. You don't wanna be sitting in the back."

"Nope," Ash giggled. It took a reluctant moment for him to break completely away from her and make his way to the door.

"See you in a little bit," she said enticingly.

"Bye, Mama," Ash waved longingly. Delia blew him a final kiss before he slipped out into the dim, empty hallway, loitering as he shut the door behind him. Standing there nearly made him tremble excitedly, speculating on what was going on around him. Worry of not claiming a good seat quickened him. Remembering all the relatives he would encounter, some he hadn't seen in years, gave rise to slight nervousness. Imagining the sight of his parents pledging their love to each other in his presence made his heart pump vigorously.

And thinking of Brock and Misty waiting for him to go down and join the other guests got his body moving. He nearly tripped racing to the bedroom, not wanting to waste another single moment dawdling. Everyone was ready and in suspense. Time was ticking. A marvelous blue sky welcomed them. The day he had been expecting for a month had finally arrived, and nothing was going to stop him from making the most of it.

Contrary to the kids' worries, there was plenty of time before the ceremony for them to break out into the scene and grab a good seat. Ash kept somewhat low, wanting to stake out the area to make sure he didn't have an overwhelming wave of family to ward off. He was mostly lucky in that sense, though it was ultimately impossible for him to elude his grandparents on his father's side, who had been saving a single seat for him in the front. Ash didn't mind—he was crazy about them, and hadn't seen them in a while. It took a little arranging to free up three more seats, as Tracey, bearing a rambunctious grin, joined them, but it was no problem. Unfortunately, Ash's seventeen-year-old cousin made the mistake of sitting diagonally behind Brock, whose unquestionable beauty drew the lovesick teen's attention instantly. Misty could do nothing but give him an occasional punch in the arm when she caught him giving her flirtatious eyes, but she was easily distracted otherwise with Ash sitting restively beside her.

She basked in the way his perpetual smile gleamed. Pikachu could barely settle on his lap since Ash was incredibly jumpy, constantly craning his head around to try to find his parents, but more often than not he wound up waving to a relative somewhere in the crowd. The sun played off his hair, warm and inviting, harmonic to the balmy, pleasant temperature encompassing them. Adjusting her dress straps again, she sighed affably, yanked Brock's head frontward by his ear, and let the sun beat down on her face, waiting in blissful composure.

Ash couldn't be as calm. The entire party was now present, a mass of familiar faces. It was futile for him to locate everyone he expected to see because of the huge, bustling gathering, but he didn't mind at the moment. There would be enough time at the reception to greet everyone—though he had no doubts that they would be rushing to see him and his parents before he even got a chance to rise from his seat.

Jay appeared shortly later, but Delia had yet to make her grand arrival. They would be walking down the aisle together, and with the few minutes he had, Jay made some quick rounds among the assembly. Ash, remembering the anecdote his mom related, waited eagerly for him to come by so that he could wish him luck, but by the time Jay approached, Delia emerged from the house, her lovely entrance drawing everyone's stares. All Ash got was a quick pat on the head from his dad, who then sauntered briskly down the aisle to join his wife. He wasn't disappointed, though—seeing his parents reunited after a long, separated morning and gazing at each other with sentimental eyes made him utterly elated.

The ceremony was just as emotional and beautiful as the kids had expected. Ash, the contented smile never leaving his face for a second, watched in quiet rapture. He didn't care that the air was growing hot, or that the sun was glaring directly in his eyes; he was mesmerized, lost in a world of happy awe. At one point, Misty took hold of his hand, but Ash squeezed back almost unconsciously. He was still incredulous, unable to grasp the fact that the two people before him had been on the verge of bitter divorce two months ago. They looked so blissful now, so in love, so meant for each other. Jay and Delia's eyes were constantly locked, wavering in passion, the hands clasped tightly together. Ash could pinpoint so many feelings and emotions splashed throughout their faces, but he was certain it couldn't compare to what they were feeling inside.

Jay and Delia were detained in state of daze. An upwelling of memories invaded them. Looking into her husband's deep, brown eyes, Delia hardly saw him as he was—all of a sudden, she beheld the twenty-year-old man whose same eyes she had gazed into that day thirteen years before, full of charm, devotion, and that never-absent spark of spontaneity. That never changed. He was just as handsome, just as enchanting as he was on their wedding day, making Delia almost dizzy. She tried to hold back her tears, but she was powerless. At one point, two gentle streams rolled down her face, bringing a wide grin to Jay's lips as he benevolently wiped them away.

She was even prettier than she was back then. Jay couldn't believe how much she matured, how the face of the girl he had fallen in love with had transforming into that of a gorgeous woman. She had been a kid, and just as he sworn to take care of her then, he was going to do it now. He recited his vows fervently (and without stuttering once), putting his heart and soul into each word, holding her hands as if he never intended to let go. She did the same, and the world around them disappeared, the furious beating of their hearts a result from their zealous love rather than the dozens of eyes on them.

Ash didn't cry, but Misty submitted to it. Throughout the ritual, her attention darted back and forth between Jay and Delia and Ash's spellbound face, each sight equally priceless. Even Brock had forgotten about the girl behind him. The event wasn't long, and before they knew it, it was over, Jay and Delia sharing a prolonged kiss.

As the crowd clapped, Misty leaned over to whisper in her boyfriend's ear, "Good job, Ash." For the first time, he turned to her, her uplifting words soaking into him.

"Thanks, Misty," he smiled modestly. His cheeks flushed, he looked back at the altar just as his parents were on their way down. The modest smile changed to a broad grin as they walked past him, Jay reaching out to ruffle his hair. It was then that the tears came, if only scarcely, as he tried so hard not to do it. He watched them walk down the rest of the aisle airily, feeling fortunate, proud, and above all, relieved. It was over, done, an accomplishment on all their parts.

But Ash didn't let the emotion subdue him for much longer. The sight of his parents hand-in-hand and snuggled close to each other, basically newlyweds, not only reminded him that the heavily anticipated affair had come to a close . . . but that it was party time.

"Ash, wait up!" Misty, struggling helplessly to run in her unstable sandals, could barely keep up with the boy as he sprinted towards the food table, Pikachu hot on his heels. "Your mom wants you at the table!"

"Don't worry!" Ash called back, turning to give her a wide smile. "I'm just gonna get something to eat! It's looks so good!"

"_Pi_kachu!"

"But Ash!" She nearly stumbled as someone grabbed her from behind.

"Oh, let him go," Brock said. They both watched as Ash reached the table and grabbed a plate, not hesitating in helping himself. "He's been wanting that food all week."

Misty sighed, sweatdropping. "I suppose so. But there's a bunch of his relatives at the table all looking for him. He's gotta go back."

"He will," Brock said, nudging her. "C'mon, let's get something, too. I want some of that shrimp platter."

"Ooh, yeah!" At the sound of that, Misty's face lit up. "I'd race ya there," she giggled, "but I'd wind up breaking my ankles doing it in these shoes."

Brock laughed. "Well, we certainly don't want that happening. Here, I'll walk you there. Shall we?" He extended his elbow, and with a smile, she roped her arm into it.

"We shall," she chirped. 

Together, they walked idly to the table, lightly taking in the sights and sounds of the party around them. Guests were scattered everywhere, some finding their seats while others checked out the appetizers as Ash was doing. Laughter and buoyant conversation was heard, but nothing was enough to drown out the lively thumping of the DJ's speakers. They approached the table to find Ash lavishly filling his plate with the cocktail wieners he so desired, a famished grin stretched across his face.

"Whoa, chill out there," Brock advised him, cocking an eye at the heap of the little hotdogs. "Save some for the rest of us."

"I'll try, but I'm starving," Ash admitted, popping one of them into his mouth. "Mmmmm. Want one, Pikachu?"

"Pika!" the Pokémon replied atop his shoulder, taking one carefully from his trainer's fingers.

"Wow, it all looks so delicious!" Misty proclaimed, eyeing the assortment of hors d'oeuvres. Along with the wieners and shrimp were other various goodies, such as teriyaki steak and buffalo wings. The food was almost as pretty as the ornate table it sat on, surrounded by sweet, strong-smelling bouquets. And this wasn't even the main course!

"Okay, guys, I'm back!" Tracey suddenly ran up to them, panting and sweating. He rubbed his hands hungrily at the food. "Oooh, mini hotdogs!"

"Hey, there you are! Did you catch that Eevee?" Misty asked, recalling the frisky Pokémon that had somehow escaped the professor's house and circled the yard about fifty times, stirred up the guests.

"Yup," Tracey nodded, still gasping for breath. He tugged his tie loose to grant some ventilation for his stifling neck. "Great way to start the party, me running around like a lunatic. Little bugger kept dodging every time I tried to call it back! It really wanted to be out here with everyone."

"Aww, I feel bad," Misty chuckled sympathetically, nibbling on a buffalo wing.

"No, don't," Tracey shook his head. "If it'd stayed out, it probably would've gotten hurt. Remember when it went skidding across the dance floor? Nearly tripped those two kids."

"Yeah, that was pretty funny! And then the DJ started playing that wacky music for it," Ash laughed, his mouth full and still going for more. The other three exchanged silly looks at his harmless gluttony, and went to fill their own plates. 

"Champagne, kids?" came a sudden, mannerly voice. They all turned to reveal one of the waiters before them, beaming as he held forward a tray of tall, skinny glasses, all assorted colors, sparkling in the sunlight.

"Ooh, thank you," they all said in unison, selecting a glass with glowing faces.

"Wow, look! It has sugar on the outside," Brock noted, running his tongue over the crystals before taking a sip. He grinned as it tingled his throat.

"It doesn't need the sugar, though," Misty sighed dreamily. "It's fine all on its own."

Ash consumed his small taste, then narrowed his eyes at her. "Since when do you drink champagne?" he inquired.

"Since always," she retorted, snappish. "I've been to enough parties, thank you very much. I should be asking _you_ that question, Ash Ketchum." She wrinkled her nose teasingly at him, then held her glass high. "Cheers, everyone."

"Cheers!" they all responded eagerly, clinking their glasses together to create a melodic _ding_.

"Mm!" Ash realized as he swallowed. "That's right! I gotta go back to the table. Let's go!"

The appetizers were now swarmed as the four made their way back. A small shiver ran through Ash as he wondered who would be there, which relative would gush over how different he was from the last time they saw him. It was a shiver not only of apprehension but of excitement as well. He loved his family, and it was a shame many didn't live nearby. He just pondered how many times he'd have to recite how far he'd come in his training.

He was shocked, however, to discover there was no one from his extended family currently congratulating Jay and Delia. Stopping short as he neared the canopy-shaded table, a wide beam of surprise and delight brightened his already radiant face.

"Mr. and Mrs. Oak! May! _Hi!_" he squealed ecstatically. The sight of the Oak family smiling at him stirred his blood, and he rushed as fast as he could over to them, miraculously without spilling any of his food.

"Hi there, Ash!" Mrs. Oak welcomed joyfully. "Long time no see!"

"Hey, there he is!" Jay laughed, setting a hand on his son's head. "What've you been doing there? Pigging out?"

"Oh, would you look at that!" Delia exclaimed, humorously disgraced at the sight of Ash with champagne in his hand. "My son, the alcoholic. Just wonderful!" She saw that all four of the smiling kids presented the same. "Where did you get those?"

"One of the waiters gave them to us," Tracey replied, giving May, who he was very friendly with, a wave.

"It's tasty," Ash grinned, emphasizing that by taking another sip. Delia placed her hands on her hips, but found her smile hard to overcome.

"Bad kid," she shook her head. "Just don't have too much of that, now, okay?"

"Don't worry, Ma, I won't," Ash promised, his grin stretching tremendously. "Have to save room for beer, anyway."

Delia rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist giving her frisky son a squeezing hug.

"Same ol' Ash," Mr. Oak sighed. "Still giving your parents a bunch of trouble, I see."

"Shaddup!" Ash giggled. "I am not!" 

This was so exciting; he hadn't seen the Oak family in ages! Well, minus one unmentionable member. But Ash didn't want to waste a minute thinking about _him_—finding him thankfully absent, he focused his attention on the better of the situation. He was too light-headed to think antagonistic thoughts at the moment, anyway. As his acquaintance with the three had gone back since he was little, he was very familiar with them, hence his playfully sassy attitude. Being around them for a large part of his childhood had made them almost his second family, and beholding them after a long disunion was simply invigorating.

"Hey, 'shaddup' yourself!"

Ash smirked; that had to be none other than May. With a impishly annoyed look, he growled at the tall, eighteen-year-old girl before him, formally his babysitter, the closest person he ever had to a big sister. 

"_Make me_," he replied snottily. She just cocked her head haughtily. 

"Oh, I'll make you, all right," she warned, waving a fist. But she couldn't keep it up much longer. As soon as that was said, a smile yanked at the corners of her mouth, and she willingly allowed it to take over. Their laughter was set free, and resounded as they shared a hug.

"What have you been up to, Ash?" she asked. "It's been so long!"

"I know," Ash replied. "I haven't been around much." Suddenly remembering his friends standing behind them, he immediately moved over, revealing them. "Oh, this is Misty and Brock. Guys, this is May—Gary's sister. And her parents."

"Hello," Misty said affably, nodding to the family, who returned the gesture. "Nice to meet you."

A blush spread across Brock's suddenly hazy face. "Yeah," he said, his voice incoherent as he studied the girl's pretty smile, "very, _very_ nice to meet you, May."

Already sensing danger on the horizon, Misty gave him a harsh pinch on the arm. Brock bit back a yelp and tore his arm away, moaning sadly. She narrowed her eyes at him briefly in warning, then turned back to smile at the Oaks.

May chortled. "It's nice to meet you, too."

"So, how long have you been home, Ash?" Mrs. Oak asked. "You're right, we haven't seen you much."

"'Bout two months."

"Two months!?" May gasped, giving him a shove. "And you never came to visit me?"

Ash scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Uh, sorry," he chuckled. _Not like I didn't have my reasons . . ._ "Guess I've just been . . . kinda lazy. Hehe."

"And that's the truth," Delia confirmed. "We gotta get you back on the road. Although seeing you with that drink now, I'm kinda afraid to let you go anywhere! I don't know _what_ you'll be doing next!"

They all laughed heartily. Ash held the glass up and finished the rest of his champagne, but he was concentrated more on the eyes around him than the drink's sweet taste. It was great to be around the Oaks again, and he felt every bit of the happiness of the reunion. 

But there was still something nagging in his mind. No matter how much fun he was having, he couldn't get rid of it. As he set the glass down on the beautifully arrayed table, his eyes quickly scanned around him. It was unusual . . . too good to be true. But _was_ it true? Ash wasn't ready to jump to any conclusions just yet, as much as he wanted to.

_May as well . . . just ask_, he thought. After all, what was the worse that could happen? Well . . . finding out he was there. But then there could also be the hopeful conformation that he wasn't, that he had gone back on his journey, _sadly_ missed this joyous event . . . ending Ash's worries.

__

Here goes nothing. "So, um," he said, clearing his throat. He purposely kept his eyes from his friends and parents. "Is Gary here?"

Misty and Brock tensed. There it was. They had no doubts that the question would eventually arise, as it was certainly impossible for Ash to be in the presence of his rival's parents and _not_ think about Gary. Holding their breaths for just a second, they awaited the answer that, like Ash, they prayed was negative.

Mrs. Oak's face lit up at that, and Ash's stomach sank. _Oh no . . ._

"Oh, Gary? Of course! He just went back to our house for a moment to get something. He'll be back soon. You want me to tell him you're looking for him?"

"_No!_" Ash cringed as that came out a little too resolutely. "I mean—uh, uh, no." He managed a shaky smile. "No, no, I'll . . . I'll run into him. Thanks."

"Okay," Mrs. Oak smiled. "Don't worry, he won't be long."

Misty and Brock swapped a nervous look. Though they knew Ash didn't mean what he said, they couldn't shake the undeniable premonition that overcame them. He might not wish to run into Gary, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen incidentally. One and only one thought swept to their minds.

__

Uh-oh . . .

Ash was rendered speechless, but realizing this, quickly shook himself of it. He didn't want to show his shock in front of the Oaks, who obviously weren't aware of the extent of his and Gary's hostilities. Plus, he didn't want to appear that way in front of his parents, either. If anything, he wanted to seem indifferent. That was hardly the way he felt, however, as his stomach churned with instant dread and anxiousness.

Luckily, the Oak family hadn't noticed, who were just as carefree as before.

"Well," Mrs. Oak said daintily, "I can't stand looking at that food of yours and not getting some myself! I think I'm going to go run over to that wonderful food table right now. Oh, everything looks so beautiful, Delia!"

"Thank you," Delia replied gratefully. Noticing the kids' plates of snacks made her mouth water; she and Jay had been so busy socializing, they hadn't gotten a chance to get some food themselves. "You know, I'm pretty hungry myself. I'll come with you. I _have_ to try that shrimp."

"It's awesome!" Brock acclaimed, taking a bite of one of the little shellfish.

"Well then, that does it," Delia concluded with a laugh. She poked her husband. "You coming, honey?"

"I think I'll have to," Jay quipped, reaching over to quickly snatch a cocktail wiener from Ash's plate and popping it into his mouth. 

"Hey!" Ash exclaimed. "Get your own!"

Jay licked his lips, giving his son a cocky look. "Will do, squirt. Gotta get some food before you eat it all."

Ash laughed, but only feebly; the abrupt disclosure of the close proximity of Gary robbed him of his recent hyperness. His dad stuck his tongue out at him as he made his way past, the other three adults and May following behind.

"We'll be right back, kids," Delia smiled. "Sit down, eat, relax."

"We have to catch up more," Mrs. Oak said, patting Ash on the shoulder. "I have to hear how your training's going."

"Okay," he grinned weakly.

"And get more champagne now while your mom's not looking," Mr. Oak whispered jokingly, winking.

"Oh no, he'd better not," May cautioned, wringing her arm around Ash's neck. This brought a toothy smile to his face, coughing as he struggled to escape her clutch. "'Cause I'll _teeeelll_ . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes, and she released him. "Nice to see you again, _May_." She smirked and spun on her heels, her dark-brown hair flying behind her.

Ash seated himself inanimately as he watched them walk away, that previous feeling of pleasure numbed. Breathing slowly, he hung his head, fixing his concentration on his plate. Absorbed deeply, thoughts of Gary clouded his mind. He was _here_. At the party. What was he going to do?

Misty and Brock stared at him, waiting for him to talk, but it was obvious he was too disturbed. Tracey, who only knew vaguely of the ugliness going on between Ash and Gary, fiddled with his food awkwardly. Ash could feel their stares, but he didn't know what to do. As much as he wanted to complain, they already knew how he was feeling. What was the point?

Misty, however, couldn't take the silence anymore. "Ash?" she said softly, tilting her head. "Are you . . . okay about this?"

She knew that was a dumb question, but she had to get him talking. He bit his lip and looked up at them finally, shrugging.

"Of course I'm not," he replied thickly. "I just . . . I—I don't know . . ." He dumped his head into his hands.

Brock sighed. "Ash, listen. It's going to be okay. Even if you do see him, don't talk to him—don't even _look_ at him. That's all you have to do."

"That's right," Misty assured, prodding his shoulder. "Don't pay any attention to him."

Ash took a deep breath, and lifted his head. It was easy for them to say that. Actually doing it, though, was going to be hard. Not that he wasn't going to heed their advice to stay away; he would try, but how could he simply accept this? He didn't want Gary at his family's party. He didn't even want him within a hundred feet of him! Just the thought of him strolling around, eating their food, listening to their music, celebrating something that meant nothing to him . . . Ash shuddered.

"I—I'll try," he promised haggardly. "Really, I'll try. But . . . I can't stand to think of him being here . . ."

"I know," Brock replied understandably. "But there's nothing you can do, okay? Just leave it alone and don't think about it."

"And Ash, please," Misty said, almost pleadingly. "If you do see him, don't even make a face. Don't do _anything_. It's just gonna end up bad."

Ash received a sudden pang of fear. "But—but what if he comes and talks to me?" he stuttered.

"Just turn and walk away," Brock admonished. His face suddenly became grave. "You have every right to ignore him. I mean it, Ash, don't start anything that could get ugly. Don't make any trouble today, it's not worth it."

Wincing at the thought, Ash nodded. "Trust me, I won't. I hope I don't even see him."

"Me neither," Misty agreed. She prayed with all her heart that that would be the case, but at the same time, she deemed it almost inevitable. Professor Oak's backyard was big, but not _that _big. If Gary was to return, the chances of seeing him were certainly not going to be slim. And the thought of that made Misty tremble.

"Hey, and if worse comes to worst, I'll talk to him," Tracey offered, which he was perfectly willing to do. "I'll ask him to get a drink with me or something. Then you can escape somewhere."

Ash smiled. "Thanks, Tracey. Appreciate it."

He was going to be strong with this. Ash decided it at that moment. After all, this wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be; at least he wasn't obliged to spend time with him, as he had been at that repulsive sleepover. He shut that recollection out of his mind as swiftly as it had come, not wanting to think about a single thing regarding Gary. All he wanted to think about was the fun, the festivity, and the friends who meant more to him than Gary ever would.

Misty seemed to read his mind perfectly. "Ash, come on now, I don't want you just thinking about this," she said. She smiled as he lifted his head. "I want you to have fun. You were having a good time two seconds ago. Don't let this bum you out."

He blinked gently. "I'm not going to, don't worry. I . . . I'll have fun. I just . . . I'm just worried, that's all."

"What, that he'll start something?" Brock queried.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded, rolling a mini hotdog in a splash of mustard before pitching it into his mouth. Pikachu flicked his ears, wanting one, too, which Ash provided.

"If he has _any_ brains," Misty said conclusively, "he won't come anywhere near you."

__

That's not too_ convincing, Misty._ Ash nearly laughed out loud as he thought this. Misty could be right, but he unfortunately still held his doubts. A party could be the best or the worst place to attempt to associate with someone you had previous contention. That's how he saw it. Maybe if Gary saw him cavorting about, laughing, screaming, joking, he'd find it the perfect opportunity to talk with him, get his bogus apologies in or start some other kind of meaningless strife. Ash could see either happening.

__

He'd have some guts to do something like that, he thought bitterly. And some gall, too.

But what was he doing? Just what Misty had begged him not to: think about it, stew in it. He quickly shook his head, as if that would get the dreaded thoughts out of his mind. It wasn't going to work, and he knew it. Especially sitting here at the table, eating his hors d'oeuvres and letting his mind wander. That was no good for him; he had to get up and do something, have fun—make the most of the party as he had intended to do since the moment his parents had made the announcement.

Fortunately for him, Misty noticed this, too. She was practically stuck in the same situation, as all she could conjure up were images—frightful images—of Ash meeting up with Gary, or worse yet, Gary even daring to approach him. She couldn't let that happen. As much as she knew Ash wanted to ignore his rival's presence, she also knew his impulsiveness, his pride, and most of all, his stubbornness. He couldn't do this on his own.

Just then, the speakers began booming a song that pricked Misty's ears excitedly. Upbeat and loud, she found her feet in an instant, raring to get to the dance floor. Not only that, but here was her chance to get Ash out of his preoccupation and return the liveliness to his body.

"Ooh, Ash, I love this song!" she leapt in place. She grabbed his wrists and attempted to yank him out of his chair. "Let's go dance!"

He gave her an uneasy smile and promptly became heavy in his seat. "Oh, I dunno, Misty . . ." he groaned.

"Oh, c'mon!" she persuaded. "What do you think the DJ is for, huh?"

Ash shrugged sheepishly. "To play music?" he tried.

"Exactly!" Her eyes sparkled, still tugging him. "Come on, come dance with me, Ash! Please, please, pleeeeease?"

He threw an indecisive glance at the dance floor, where only a few kids were bouncing about. It was still early, and most people were helping themselves to the appetizers, which increased Ash's hesitancy. It wasn't that he was scared to dance, but he was more comfortable when there was a crowd to blend into. He would have preferred to wait until the dancing picked up, but it seemed he didn't have a choice.

Brock, getting the gist of Misty's purpose, suddenly rose from his seat. He snapped his fingers dictatingly. "Okay, Ash, up. Come, we're gonna go dance. Right, Tracey?"

"Ah, sure, why not?" Tracey gave in without a second thought, grinning. "I like this song, too." 

Though still disinclined, seeing all his friends up made Ash feel left out—a feeling he always hated. With a playful pout, he finally rose, too.

"Haha! All right!" Misty cheered, unbuckling her sandals. She kicked them under the table and seized Ash's hand again.

"_Guys_," Ash whined as he was reluctantly hauled to the dance floor by his very adamant, very gleaming girlfriend. "There's no one out here!"

"Well, we'll bring them out here!" proclaimed Brock.

"Besides, who cares if no one's here?" Misty scoffed, raising her voice over the music. They reached the dance floor and she began to dance, still holding onto Ash's hands, who had yet to move his legs. "Dancing's fun! Just because there's no one else doin' it doesn't mean we can't!"

She finally released his hands and began to bobble to the song, her capricious eyes never leaving him. Ash stood with a slightly embarrassed smile, watching his friends shuffle, all giving him similar looks of enticement like Misty. Who was he kidding? He _did_ want to dance; the music was rousing him, slowly but surely reversing the troubled state he had fallen into momentarily.

Misty could see this change, and this made her smile grow fantastically. "I see you smiling!" she cried, pointing at him like she had caught him red-handed. "Stop standing there like a dud, Ash! Dance, dance!"

With a defeated smile and slouch of his shoulders, he finally conceded. "Okay, okay!" he shouted back, and began to dance quite easily for someone who had been so apprehensive.

"Yay!" Misty clapped her hands, laughing boisterously. The laugh was contagious, and Ash caught it immediately. Pretty soon, having the entire dance floor to themselves was amazing, and they used the entire space to their advantage.

Ash forgot about Gary. As each song changed, one familiar, pumping tune after another, his head drifted airily, and his body became nimbler. He was back to enjoying himself again, and his friends couldn't have been gladder. They, too, had forgotten about the whole ordeal. The only thought on their minds was how energized they were, and how much more energy they could attain. And, of course, how increasingly humid it was getting.

"Watch me, Misty!" Ash was doubling over with laughter, his jacket practically hanging half off from the heat. "I'm gonna try to do the moonwalk!"

She smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you can do that," she assured him sarcastically.

"No, no, really!" he exclaimed. "I can do it, I can do it! I did it once, I swear. Watch me."

"Okay, this oughta be funny," Misty crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. She was convinced that his hyperness and the two glasses of soda, as well as the champagne, he had downed were not a healthy mix. "Go ahead, make a fool of yourself. I'm waiting."

"Har har, Misty," Ash rocked his head, making an effort to put a face of concentration amidst his giddy grin and failing miserably. "Here goes nothing!"

While Misty was succumbing to giggling, Ash attempted to glide backwards on his feet, which wasn't very easy due to his new shoes scuffing roughly on the shiny surface. He didn't move a foot before he stumbled, catching himself before going down.

"Oh, that was _real_ smooth, Ash," Misty praised mockingly.

"Well, that was just practice," he insisted. "I'll _really _do it this time."

"_Okay_, whatever you say," she sang, biting her lip to keep her laughter within her.

Ash took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. He realized very quickly that his shoes were simply determined to be uncooperative, as he found himself tripping backwards after another ungraceful endeavor. He let out a playful yelp, but that soon changed to one of genuineness as he felt his body slam into another.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" he apologized instantly, spinning around to face the person he'd tripped into accidentally. "I'm so—"

His words were ceased brusquely, his heart skipped a beat. For an instant he didn't move a muscle. He was too stunned to even breathe.

Gary smiled. "Trying out some new dance moves there, Ash?"

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

Eek! Sorry for the disgusting delay in posting this chapter…school has just been impossible. ^^;; Well, and it was impossible last week and _this week, but I had to finish this for all of you! ^_^ I've kept you waiting way too long! But I made it extra long to make up for it! I hope the next wait isn't as bad, but I can't promise anything. The next chapter is going to be fun, so I don't think I should have too much of a problem writing it. ^__^_

By the way, I've discovered that listening to the Chicago_ soundtrack while attempting to write is _not_ a good idea. LOL It's too distracting! :P Have to remember that for the next time…_

Thanks for reading! And thank you for waiting, too! ^^;;


	17. and Rivalries

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 17

. . . and Rivalries

Ash shuddered as his rival's words drilled his ears with a start. He was dazed, the sight of Gary before him like an illusion, his words, as innocent and amicable as they could be, hanging over his head like a foreboding cloud. It was only briefly that he was trapped in this sphere of shock before he blinked, managing to form the first word that his lips could scarcely produce.

"G-gary?" Behind him, his friends' dancing came to a standstill, their eyes misting with dread. It was Gary all right, dressed a bit more casually but still sharply tasteful in his pleated khakis and crimson shirt, his head tilted contentedly with a smile to match. His appearance couldn't have been more harmless, but it succeeding in making their stomachs lurch at once.

"Hey, Ash," he said breezily. "How're you doing?"

Ash just stared. He couldn't utter a word, be it cold or indifferent—his tongue became mute. He didn't even feel Pikachu climb to his shoulder. It was quite a blow beholding the person he detested most before him, the person he swore he never wanted to see again if he could help it. Yet here he was, smiling as if nothing in the world was wrong, trying to speak to him without the least bit of wariness in his tone.

He didn't know what to do. Misty could see it, and it frightened her. Although Gary was airy and Ash was paralyzed with panic, she wasn't going to take her chances, especially knowing how easily Ash could be set off. Gulping, she inched her way beside the silenced boy. She tried to keep her eyes from Gary, but it was impossible; she flashed one unavoidable glimpse at him before turning her attention to Ash. Cautiously, she took hold of his arm.

"Ash, come on," she said inaudibly. Brock and Tracey looked on tensely, feeling awkward with what was occurring.

"Ash? What's the matter?" Gary asked before Misty was able to lead him away. He shrugged, a hint of concern surprisingly present in his voice. "You can't even say hi to me?"

__

Hi? Ash thought. The absurdity of such an idea rendered him unresponsive to Misty's tender but insistent yanking. He wanted a "hi"? A _"hi"!?_ As he repeated Gary's request over and over inwardly, his eyes gradually narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" he said thickly.

The inquiry seemed to startle Gary. His face scrunched with confusion, but he smiled and shrugged again. "What am I doing here? I came for the party," he answered simply.

"You came for the party?" repeated Ash. Misty shuddered, her anxiety increasing with a jolt.

"Ash, _come on_," she tugged again, her voice a little louder this time. She didn't care how rude this would be to Gary; she needed to get Ash away from him. Already his sparse words were heavy, that highly discernible threat of hostility brewing in his tone. "Let's go back and dance."

"Pika pi," Pikachu encouraged quietly, pulling his hair. The encounter even made his fur bristle with discomfort.

Ash wanted to listen. Dancing sounded good. Deserting Gary without the dignity of a greeting sounded even better. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from him. Just seeing him there aroused a wave of resentment. He didn't want him on the dance floor—he didn't want him at the party _period_. It was worse actually witnessing him here rather than simply perceiving it.

"Ash," Misty entreated.

Gary sighed, realizing by Ash's glare that this wasn't going to lead anywhere pleasant. It wasn't like he didn't expect this. He thought himself crazy at that moment for thinking he'd get an acceptable response, but he figured it was worth a shot. "Look, Ash, it's all right. I saw you, and I thought it'd be rude not to say hi. It's okay. It's cool to see you again."

__

And that's very kind of you, Misty thought, rolling her eyes to herself as she gave Ash another pull. He wasn't budging. Instead, he nodded rigidly at Gary's words.

"Sure . . . yeah," he said. _That's it, you can do this_, he told himself. _Just walk away. Follow Misty._ And he did.

It was both easy and hard to turn his back on Gary. Part of him wanted more than anything to shoot some snide remark at him, get out all the frustration that had built up in the last sixty seconds. But another part of him wanted to be good. He knew the best thing to do was brush him off, for any contact would likely result in an argument that would attract eyes, and not to mention put a damper on his day. He didn't need that happening any worse than it already was.

Misty sighed with relief as Ash finally allowed her to guide him away, leaving Gary standing in their wake. _Very good, Ash, very good_, she praised him in her mind, making a point to let him know this when she would draw him a good distance away from Gary. Though he couldn't have been any more unfriendly, she was proud of him. Knowing him, this must have been a hard thing to do.

They made their way deeper onto the dance floor where Brock and Tracey awaited them. Ash kept his eyes glued to the floor, still feeling Gary's stare penetrating into his back. It was a sensation that chilled him with rancor, but he was determined to ignore it.

"Phew, that was close," Tracey said, the animosity dripping from Ash's disposition clarifying just how bad it really was.

"You did good, Ash," Brock commended. Ash looked up at his friends unemotionally.

"Yeah," Misty agreed, giving him a wide smile. "See? It was weird, but it wasn't hard, was it?"

"You did exactly what you were supposed to do," said Brock, giving his friend's shoulder an approving whack. "Now it's out of the way. We can forget about it."

"Yeah! After that, he isn't gonna come near you again," Misty asserted. She snorted whimsically. "God, Ash, you couldn't have been any colder!"

"I know," Tracey shook his head. "I didn't know it was that bad!"

Brock gave him a face. "Oh, it's that bad. It's worse. You don't want to know." Tracey cringed, chuckling.

Ash didn't crack a smile in acknowledgement to their approval. He lowered his head again and studied his shoes, trying his best to combat the repulsive thoughts of Gary's presence. It was easy for them to say it was over, but he knew better. He didn't believe Gary would approach him again, but he strongly feared the awareness that he could no longer take his mind off him. He would try. Part of him hopelessly realized it was going to be impossible, as he scoffed at just the _thought_ of him being at the party all day. He might not see him again, and he certainly might not consort with him, but he knew he was there. And Ash couldn't stand it.

Misty ecstatically leapt before him and took his hands. "Aaasssh," she sang. She rested her forehead against his, giggling. "You okay? C'mon, let's go dance some more."

Ash breathed deeply, squeezing her hands tightly but not lifting his head. He wanted to dance . . . but _he_ was there.

"Hey, stop it," Misty responded knowingly, still peppy. "He's gone now, forget about it. _Gone_," she grumbled playfully. 

__

I wish he was, Ash thought. Misty cocked her head, wondering why he wasn't livening up. After Ash's cold shoulder, there was no way they'd see Gary again. She wanted that frown gone, his memory washed once again of his problem. There really _wasn't _a problem here—the encounter was inevitable, but it was over. They could go back to having fun again.

"Ash, _forget_ about it," she restated. The music pounded, enticing her to dance. "Come on, dancing helped the last time. Let's do it again. We'll have fun."

"Stop thinking about it," Brock advised, giving Ash an easy smile. "It's okay."

"Yeah, let's dance!" Misty cried again unrelentingly.

"Pikachu!" the Pokémon proclaimed, hopping off Ash's shoulder as the call to dance excited him.

"We'll go and request a song," she continued. "Come on, we have to do it before they start serving dinner! Otherwise we'll have to wait! You don't wanna hafta wait, do ya, Ash?"

Ash sighed, and gazed into her blue eyes, wavering with excitement and persuasion. But her bliss wasn't doing what she intended it to. He was trying to catch it, but he couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of despondency that wrenched him. He wanted to comply to her wishes and have fun—he wanted this himself—but he couldn't get his mind to embrace it. _He _was there.

"No," he shrugged dully and quite unconvincingly.

Misty grinned nonetheless. "Then let's go!" With a jerk, she lugged him across the dance floor, Brock and Tracey following with amused smiles. Ash wasn't pulling against her, but he lagged so much she could have been hauling deadweight for all she knew.

__

Snap out of this, Ashton, he scolded himself, realizing the nonsense of his despair. _You know you want to dance and have fun. Why are you doing this to yourself? Gary's here . . . and there's nothing you can do about it. You have to accept it. You have to._

He loathed the thought of spending the whole day moping. He had waited for it too long, and now that it was here, he wasn't going to let Gary ruin it for him. After all, he didn't let Gary spoil his desire to enjoy Pokémon training, so why should he allow this? All he had to do was put it behind him, follow Misty's delightful lead, and pretend that the untimely meeting never occurred. He could do it . . . he hoped.

"What song do you want to hear?" Misty asked him as they stopped before the DJ's booth. Her voice was loud, straining to outmatch the speakers that made the ground beneath their feet quake.

Ash perked, considering it. "Ummm . . . I dunno."

Misty gave him a playful shove. "Oh, please! All those songs you like! How can you not know?"

"I just . . . don't know," Ash smiled weakly. He tried to browse his brain for a song he liked—but his mind swept back to Gary.

__

No, no, stop it! he growled to himself, gritting his teeth. _Don't think about him! Think about a damn song! Ummm . . ._

"Ash!" Misty laughed, giving him a soft smack upside the head. She knew too well what he was really thinking of. "Stop thinking about him." Ash tensed as his rival, once again, surfaced in the dialogue. "Think about _a song_."

But he couldn't. Her simple reference to Gary seized control of him again, overpowering any thoughts he held for music. He bit his lip harriedly, trying with every ounce of determination he had to stop thinking about Gary.

__

Just quit it already! _You don't want him here, but you can't do anything! There's nothing you can do, forget about it! Nothing you can do . . ._

The hell there wasn't something he could do! No matter how much he attempted to instill in himself the notion that he could neglect Gary, the spark of irritation that zapped through him at every mention of his name completely annulled it. Ash locked eyes with Misty, his breath escaping him. She didn't deserve to have his depression ruin her day, and come to think of it, neither did he.

Misty stared perplexingly at his odd look. She hardly had a chance to inquire, however, as he brusquely spun on his heels, looking back at where he and his rival had so unexpectedly met minutes ago.

And there he was, not having moved an inch. An angry chill ran up Ash's spine as his eyes narrowed on Gary. Granted, he was facing the opposite direction, leaning lazily against the frame of the tent and not even looking at them, but he was still there. Just the way he was lolling in the pleasant atmosphere made Ash shiver with vexation.

Misty, Brock, and Tracey froze as they witnessed Ash's scowl set on Gary, but before any of them had a chance to react, he huffed and proceeded to march stiffly over to him.

That got Misty's tongue working. "Ash, no!" she cried, but he bluntly ignored her. She panicked as Ash verged upon Gary, whose head turned instantly. He flinched slightly at his former friend's fierce glare.

"Get off the dance floor," Ash ordered, his eyes odious slits.

Her face paling in distress, Misty tore after him. "Ash, stop it! No!"

"What are you doing!?" Brock shouted as he, Tracey, and Pikachu followed immediately.

Again, Ash disregarded his friends. To him, they were just noises among the others of the party. He didn't turn around to face them, knowing their expressions and hardly caring. Misty grabbed hold of his arm viciously, but his piercing eyes never left Gary's.

"What?" Gary stammered, confounded.

"Get off the dance floor," Ash venomously repeated.

"Ash!" Misty barked, her fist clutching his jacket pleadingly. "Stop it!"

Gary jerked his head, arching his eyebrow. "Are you crazy?"

"I'm not crazy," Ash replied distinctly. "I want you off the dance floor."

"Huh!? Why should I?" challenged Gary, narrowing his eyes right back at him. He turned to face him defensively.

Exasperation rose in Ash's weakening temper. "Because you're not dancing, that's why. I want you off."

"Ash, quit it!" Misty yelled, sensing the calamity that would come out of this if she didn't end it _fast_. She tried with all her strength to pull Ash away, but it was futile; his feet were firmly planted. Her eyes darted fearfully between Ash and Gary, absorbing the forthcoming disaster. What happened all of a sudden?

Gary was not at all justified with Ash's reason. "What the hell are you talking about? You can't tell me to get off! I can stand here and do nothing if I please!"

"You can not!" Ash bared his teeth. "_I _want to dance, and I'm not going to with you standing here. Now _get off!_"

"I'm not gonna get off!" Gary spat, shrugging at the ludicrous demand. "What's _wrong_ with you? Mind your own business!"

"I won't mind my own business! I can't with you being here and—and doing nothing!" belted Ash, his fists stiffened at his side. Misty, Brock, and Tracey tensed considerably. This wasn't good . . .

"Ash, please!" Misty begged, her fury rising at being ignored. She tore ruthlessly at his jacket, but he still paid no heed. "Don't start anything!"

Gary scoffed. He couldn't understand how his innocent hello had brought such conflict, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let Ash conquer. Arching his shoulders, the couple inches he achieved over him fortified. "Ash, what's your problem? Look, just get lost, will you? I don't need this!"

"_You're_ my problem!" Ash retorted, startling his friends. "And I'm not going to get lost, you are!" 

"ASH!" Misty roared, once again unsuccessfully.

"Ash, stop it! That's enough already!" Brock attempted.

"Please don't fight!" pleaded Tracey.

"Pika _piii!_" even Pikachu begged, tugging helplessly at Ash's pants. Ash was doing quite a good job of ignoring them, provoking Misty to the brink of rage.

The others' pleas were meaningless to Gary as well, whose anger was augmenting. "Don't tell me to get lost, Ash."

"I _will_ tell you to get lost! Get off the dance floor! In fact, just leave the whole _party!_ Why are you here, anyway? You don't care!"

"I do _to_ care!" Gary objected. "And besides, I was invited! I have every right to be here!"

"You do not!"

"What the hell!? Says who?"

"Says me, that's who! Leave! Now!"

Gary's eyes widened outrageously. "What right do you have to tell me to leave!?"

"This is my parents' party!" came Ash's reason hotly.

"This is my grandfather's _backyard!_"

Ash struggled with that, but only momentarily. "W-well," he stammered, "I don't care! I've been looking forward to this day, and I'm not going to have you ruin it! I didn't need to see you here, and I don't want to anymore! So—so just _go away!_"

Gary stood his ground. "_No_."

"How can you even show your face here!? After what you said about my parents, I can't believe you have the nerve to come and say _hi_ to me!"

"Ash, I told you," Gary frowned, "I didn't mean it when I said that! Okay? How many times do I have to apologize?"

"You can apologize all you want, but I'm never going to forgive you for it!"

"Well, that's just too bad!" declared Gary. "I apologized, and I can be here if I want to—especially since I was invited."

"No you can't! Go away!"

By that point, though, it was clear Ash had no supporters—and that Misty had reached her wit's end. "Ash, I swear to God!" she bellowed, her face puffed. She reached out and brutally snatched hold of his ear, yanking him back to reality. "I told you to cut this out! _Now stop it!_"

Ash yelped, his face reddening from Misty's impulsive reprimand and his vehement anger. "Misty, stop! Let go of me!" he growled, able to break from her grasp—though rather painfully. He winced terribly, shooting her daggers with his eyes.

"I won't!" Misty glowered, a fistful of his jacket promptly in her hand again. "This is dumb, Ash! You're being an ass!"

"I'm not being an ass!" he snapped.

"Heh, I couldn't have said it better myself." Ash faltered suddenly at Gary's derisive remark, slowly turning to find him grinning. He despised that grin. "She's right, ya know, Ash. It's no use picking a fight with me and expecting to win it." He began to wave him away. "You'd better just giving up now like your little girlfriend wants you to."

Ash's heart pounded madly. He couldn't believe this. All Gary needed was those few seconds to gain the upper hand that stabilized his arrogant charm.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The mock in Gary's voice wracked him with enmity. That, and the embarrassment of having being sternly dictated by Misty in front of him.

Gary smirked haughtily. "You're kidding, right? What part of 'you're an ass' did you not understand?"

Ash snarled. "That's not what I meant!"

"Oh, so I guess you _do_ understand that you're an ass! My mistake," he shrugged. He suddenly cringed, though his contemptuous grin remained. "And comin' from your _girlfriend_, too—ooh, that must hurt."

Again, the increased quip at the word "girlfriend" made Ash shake. If Gary thought he was taking a stab at him with that false insult, he was sadly mistaken. "Don't you dare bring my girlfriend into this! This is between you and me, you jerk!"

Gary was taken aback at his last outburst. "Wh-what?" he gasped. "Wait a second—you mean she really _is_ your girlfriend?" Misty tensed at that, while Ash fumed.

"You're damn straight she is! Why? Does that _shock_ you, Gary?"

"Actually, yeah, it kinda does!" Gary said, emitting a chuckle. He gave the ticked off couple the once over, nodding almost approvingly. "Though I don't know _why_ I'm shocked. It's about time actually—you've been tagging her along long enough. Might as well make the most of it."

"HEY!" cried Ash appallingly. "That's not the reason why! You take that back!"

Misty shuddered as Gary's comment stung, but unlike Ash, she felt it wasn't even worth dignifying with a response. She just wanted to walk away—but not, of course, without Ash. She still held tightly onto his arm, feeling him shake furiously.

Gary's hands shot up in defense. "All right, all right, I take it back. Geez, Ash. You know, for someone whose parents just got remarried and are throwing this awesome party, you're getting pissed over nothing! Chill out, would ya?"

"I won't chill out!" Ash defied. "Not until you leave!" He wasn't going to give up. Especially after that intolerable crack at his relationship with Misty, he wasn't going to quit until Gary was unquestionably out of his sight for the rest of his party. This whole thing was making him sick to his stomach.

The humored look that Gary had attained quickly faded. "I'm not going to leave, Ash. You can't make me. So _tough_." 

His headstrong stance was pushing Ash past his limit. "Leave the party. Now," he reiterated.

Gary just huffed. "I have a better idea, Ash. Why don't _you_ leave the party? You're obviously not having fun, and since _I'm _not leaving, guess you won't be for the rest of the day. Oh well."

Ash's temper was seconds away from snapping. He stomped over to Gary, glaring straight into his eyes. "Shut up! I'm not leaving this party, you are!"

"And who's going to make me? You?" Gary asked impudently.

"You bet I will!"

He smirked, folding his arms. "You and what army?" He looked Ash boldly in the eye. "Face it, Ashy boy, I'm here and there's nothing you can do about it. Your parents invited me, notyou, and unless I misunderstood something about this being _your_ party, you have absolutely no power to make me leave. _None_."

Ash took deep breaths; Gary's haughty defiance was making his blood boil. For a moment, he was speechless, leaving his three friends hanging in suspense. Misty was stagnant, still clinging onto Ash's arm, waiting dreadfully for his next retaliation. She trembled. This wasn't supposed to be part of the party. Even if this did miraculously end on a peaceful note, she knew this was the end of their fun. There was no way Ash's buoyant happiness would return.

"I'm sick of you, Gary," Ash finally grumbled. His voice was low, but his anger was not gone. "I'm sick of you acting like you're so damn great."

"Well, it's because I am," he shrugged matter-of-factly.

This made Ash tighten his fists ferociously. "You are not!"

Needless to say, Gary was getting quite fed up as well. "Oh, really? And you are? I must've missed that along with the announcement that this party was being held in your honor."

"I'm better than you are, and you know it!" barked Ash decisively.

"Didn't seem that way the last time we battled," Gary cocked an eye at his seething friend. "Or did you forget that?"

Grinding his teeth, Ash said, "I didn't forget it! But that doesn't mean it's not different now! That was a long time ago; I'm ten times better than you now—more than that!"

"Heh, is that what you think?"

"You bet, and it's true!"

"Well then," Gary said, frowning but confident, "you wouldn't be afraid to prove that, would you? Whaddah ya say? You, me—right now."

Their eyes all widened incredulously at that, but only three felt the immediate sinking of their stomachs. Ash, on the other hand, had no difficulty grasping the challenge that was sent his way, and had no difficulty accepting it, either. Suddenly, the party and his friends became obsolete, his mind set on his new task.

"All right, you're on!" he declared, pumping a fist.

Misty thought she was going to faint. "Ash! No! What are you doing?" she choked.

Gary smiled. "Just as I thought." He turned his back and began to make his way to the house. "I wasn't planning on battling today, so I don't have any of my Pokémon with me. I'll have to go and get some. Meet me at the field beyond the tents—unless of course you realize it's pointless and you wuss out. I'll understand."

While his aghast friends gawked, Ash huffed. "That won't happen. I'll be there, and I'm gonna beat you this time, too, Gary! You just wait!"

"Sure, whatever," Gary brushed it off, proceeding on his way. Ash watched him for some time, glowering, no regret arising for what he had just agreed on. Reception or no reception, he was going to battle him, and this time it was going to be different. With everything he had, he would defeat Gary, and nothing was going to stop him.

Not even his friends.

"Ash, are you insane!?" Misty belted out as he began his trek to the field destined for the long-awaited triumph over his rival. He was hardly waiting for them to follow, even Pikachu, the only Pokémon he had in his possession. "What are you doing?"

"Ash, you're making a huge mistake!" Brock yelled, trying to keep up alongside his tramping friend. "Don't do this!"

"I am going to do this," Ash replied, head still forward. "I'm not gonna have him acting like this anymore. I'm finally going to show him who's the better trainer."

"But at your parents' _wedding reception!?_" Misty screeched. "Ash, you're crazy! You can't do this! Not here, not now!"

"I don't care, Misty," Ash said resolutely, glaring at her. "I'm sick of Gary, and I don't want him at this party. And if this is how I'll have to get rid of him, then I'll do it."

"But this is ridiculous!" Brock said rigidly. "You don't realize what you're doing! This isn't the right place to battle Gary. You're going to make a scene!"

"He's right," Tracey agreed, his voice a bit softer. "People are gonna know."

"So what? I have to get rid of him."

"It's called _ignoring_ him, Ash," Misty said, almost coming right up to his face. She was desperate to stop this, for he had no idea the situation he was setting himself up for. "You don't have to battle! You're going to be sorry!"

"Not when I beat him," Ash insisted.

"Ugh!" Misty cried. She stopped dead in her tracks and stomped her foot irately. Brock and Tracey halted, too, but Ash continued his violent promenade without missing a beat. "Ash, stop! I . . . I—I'm gonna tell your parents! I'll do it, Ash—I'm gonna go tell your mom right now!"

Ash turned his head slightly, shrugging. "Go ahead, Misty. Go tell them," he replied nonchalantly.

__

Oh my God, what's gotten into him? "I will!" she determined, pointing at the tents, which were now distant. "I swear, I'm going right now!" To strengthen her threat, she started off slowly.

This time Ash did stop and face her, a dash of irritation mixed with his determination. "Fine, Misty! I don't care, go tell them! Go! By the time they come anyway, I'll've already kicked Gary's ass! It won't make a difference."

Misty opened her mouth to shout again, but nothing came out. She couldn't believe it; he had completely lost all sense! Just how much could he possibly think this was right?Their eyes burned into each other's momentarily before Ash staggered around, heading further into the field.

"Come on, Pikachu," he said. The Pokémon hesitated, threw a regretful glance at the other three, and obeyed.

Breathing heavily, Misty did all she could to keep from lashing out uncontrollably. This was just ridiculous. _I hope you lose_, she thought.

Brock sighed beside her. "Brock, do something," she told him.

He gave her a face. "What can I do? He won't listen to me."

Misty slouched. "Well then, what are we going to do?" she asked hopelessly.

Watching Ash again, Brock shrugged with his eyes. "Go tell his parents."

Despite her previous threat, Misty was startled by his answer. Her eyes shifted again to focus sheepishly on Ash.

"Not that it'll make much of a difference," Brock continued. "There's no way there's going to be a Pokémon battle here without anyone knowing it."

"You think so?" Misty cringed.

"Yeah," Tracey affirmed. "If Ash is using Pikachu, everyone will see the electricity bolts."

"Go tell them, Misty," suggested Brock again, giving her a look of serious urging. "We don't know how long Gary's going to be. Maybe they can stop this before it even starts."

Misty lingered. As much as she dreaded this, a part of her actually did want to see the battle take place. Just so Gary could beat Ash and prove how dumb his decision was, that nothing came out of foolish stubbornness. That would show him.

But she also knew the tension that would ultimately arise. Maybe it would be better to get Jay and Delia . . . sure, they wouldn't be pleased, and it would cause an awkwardness between her and Ash for the remainder of the party, but it certainly would be better than allowing him the possibly to create trouble.

She realized the decision she had on her hands: be on Jay and Delia's side or Ash's.

"This is just a big mess," she groaned.

"It's going to be an even bigger mess when Gary comes back," Brock said. "This isn't going to go smoothly."

A chill ran up Misty's spine, and yet she remained where she was. For some reason, she couldn't get herself to reveal to Jay and Delia what Ash was doing, that instead of eating and dancing along with the rest of the party, their son was preparing a nasty skirmish with his rival on the outskirts of the reception. Maybe . . . maybe it wouldn't be that bad. There was a chance that the battle could end swiftly and uneventfully. And then no one would know, things could go back to normal.

Somehow, though, she had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't happen that way. 

Ash, in the meantime, was pumped; he was going to finally gain his victory over Gary. He believed that fully. Taking a deep breath of the humid air, he gazed out at the sweeping meadow that was undisturbed in the tranquility of the hot, Sunday afternoon, save for the muffled pounding of an obscure tune from the DJ's speakers. The sun beat down ferociously on him; he was sweltering inside of his heavy suit and beads of sweat formed along his hairline. He didn't mind, though. Excitedly, he awaited Gary's return, his heart racing.

"This is it, Pikachu," he told his Pokémon. "We're gonna win this time." 

"Pi." Pikachu, looking as apprehensive as Misty, pricked his ears and raised his head. Even he didn't like the idea of this, but he wasn't going to deny Ash his help. After all, he wasn't too fond of Gary, either. Memories of Ash's painful last encounters with him stirred his resentment as well, but nonetheless he wasn't too excited about this upcoming battle. It was hot, for one thing. He scratched the moist area beneath his bow tie where it began to itch.

It didn't take much longer for Gary to return. Ash narrowed his eyes while Misty held her breath, grabbing a fistful of Brock's shirt tensely. A smug smile was painted easily on Gary's face, and he rambled casually to a position a hundred yards across from Ash. He dug a single Pokéball out of his pocket, enlarged it, and tossed it daintily from one hand to the other. Ash ground his teeth bitterly.

"So what's the deal here?" Gary asked.

"I win, you leave," Ash answered.

Gary shrugged. "Fair enough. And what about me when _I_ win? What do I get? You know, other than the satisfaction of still knowing I'm better than you?"

"Don't get your hopes up about that yet!" Ash barked, completely ignoring his question. There was no point discussing Gary's reward. "One Pokémon each!" He nodded to Pikachu, who sprang forward on command. "I choose Pikachu."

"Whoa, that's a surprise," Gary remarked sarcastically. He waved his Pokéball in front of his face suspensefully. "But it's no match for what I got."

"That's what you think!"

Smirking, Gary tossed the Pokéball into the air. With a fabulous flash of bright light, its inhabitant materialized before their eyes: two pointed, brown ears reaching for the sky and a long tail with a jagged end flicking back and forth, the Pokémon seemed to smile with that sense of egoism similar to its master's.

Misty gasped as Ash drew back, astonished. "A . . . Raichu?" he muttered. 

"Pi_kaaa_ . . ." Pikachu's ears immediately pinned back at the sight of his enhanced opponent.

"That's right," Gary replied unwaveringly, glimpsing happily at his Raichu. "Captured it just last month. Strong-looking, isn't it?" For a moment, Ash gaped, and Gary smiled. "Knew you'd like it."

Ash quickly snapped out of it. "Doesn't matter how strong it looks! It's no match for Pikachu!"

"Pikachu!" exclaimed Pikachu, still shooting a rather ferocious glare at the Raichu. The evolved Pokémon absorbed Pikachu's look, and its fur bristled competitively.

"We'll see about that," Gary said. "Make your first move."

Ash nodded once. "All right!" The attack came readily to his lips. "Pikachu, agility!"

"Pika!" Bounding instantly off his toes, Pikachu took off, haphazardly darting towards the Raichu. 

Misty covered her face with her hands, not even wanting to watch. _Oh, Ash, stop it, please!_

"Don't worry," Brock said calmly, sensing her despair. "It'll be over fast." Misty wasn't sure if the rapid victory he was referring to would belong to Ash or Gary.

Gary reacted promptly. "Raichu, agility! Go!"

Raichu obeyed, dashing away from Pikachu. The Pokémon evaded each other, their ears flat, waiting for the order to strike.

"Pikachu!" Ash called. "Tackle it when you get the chance!"

Pikachu was eager to comply. Despite his fleetness, his eyes never left Raichu's. Suddenly, the battle became more than just Ash's attempt to finally prove his greater talent, but Pikachu's, also. After all, it was he who had caused Ash's loss the last time. And although this was not the Eevee who had handed him defeat, it was bad just the same—worse, perhaps. Pikachu wouldn't lose, especially to his evolved form. He was going to be stronger. He was going to be the victor. Ash's resolve quickly became his.

Raichu was just as agile as Pikachu, the thumping background music almost matching their zipping strides. Finally they halted at first opportunity, and with a tremendous burst of speed, the two rammed each other. The impact sent them both back forcefully, but it was clear Pikachu bore the effect of the attack. He staggered to his feet, wincing.

Ash, Misty, Brock, and Tracey all seemed to flinch at the collision. Misty groaned, turning away again.

"That didn't look good," Tracey observed in a whisper.

Ash's heart skipped a beat, but he regained himself. "C'mon, Pikachu!" he shouted, clapping his hands. Pikachu got up, shaking the pain from his body. "Try another tackle!"

"Tackle, Raichu!" Gary cried, repeating the successful attack. Raichu appeared to be shaken, but not as much as Pikachu.

Pikachu heard Ash's order, but he heard Gary's, too. Already he could feel how powerful his opponent was, and a rare feeling of fear invaded him. He couldn't take another tackle, he wasn't going to lose this. With a jolt of impulsiveness, his cheeks sparked. He sprang out of the way as Raichu charged, and released a sizzling thundershock, zapping its target dead-on.

"_Huh!?_" Ash's eyes went wide. "Pikachu! I didn't say thundershock!"

"What?" Misty gulped.

"Why did Pikachu do that?" Tracey asked.

"I have no idea. That's weird," Brock commented, his voice shaky with curiosity. "Pikachu doesn't normally do that." 

"Oh no, _now_ what's going on?" Misty wailed. Their eyes were fixed on the battle with heightened interest.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Gary shouted. "Your Pikachu won't even do the attack you tell it to!? Good training job there, Ash!"

Ash growled, clenching his fists. What possessed Pikachu to completely ignore his demand like that? Already Raichu was up, however, allowing no time to question Pikachu's action. "Pikachu, I said tackle attack! Now!"

Pikachu was hunched, now on the receiving end of a malicious glower from Raichu. He wanted to do as Ash said, but he couldn't tackle. He did what he felt was best, what would win the fight. Again, he gathered his energy, and fired off a thunderbolt. This time Raichu was ready, and escaped the electrical assault. 

"Raaaai!" it snarled in ire, its own cheeks crackling.

"_Pikachu!_" Ash exclaimed in shock. "What are you doing!?"

"Hey, come on!" Gary called, now in annoyance. "Control your Pokémon! What is this, a battle or an 'anything goes'?" Ash cringed, feeling more confused than abashed. He couldn't quite answer the inquiry.

They were both in for a shock, though, as Raichu suddenly let out a piercing battle cry and mustered his own mighty thundershock. Pikachu leapt out of the way just as it singed the grass, and without a moment of delay, retaliated with the same. Raichu dodged it, a look of serious repulsion flared with aggression glimmering in its eyes.

"Raichu!" Gary screamed angrily. "What are you using thundershock for!? I didn't say you could use it!"

"Pikachu!" Ash roared just as sparks began to yet again emanate from Pikachu's electric sacs. He recoiled in surprise as his Pokémon ignored him, sending a shock Raichu's way. "What—what are you doing!? Stop!"

"Stop, Raichu! Listen to what I say!" Gary balled his fists, but Raichu was too burned up now to let Pikachu get away with his sneak attack. Both Gary and Ash's desperate orders were ineffective. Before they knew it, the two electric Pokémon were exchanging subsequent attacks in what was now a personal contest rather than a controlled battle. The audience around them could only confoundingly watch as the bolts shot back and forth, Pikachu and Raichu scurrying in circles, trying to avoid each other and get in a good hit.

Misty could feel her heart leaping to her throat. "What's happening? Why aren't they listening?" she squeaked.

"Ash!" Brock exclaimed. Ash, his face twisted with puzzlement, turned to him. "What's wrong with Pikachu?"

"I don't know!" he replied fretfully, flinched as another one of Pikachu's thundershocks drilled their ears. "Pikachu! What's gotten into you!? Stop it, now!" 

But Pikachu didn't listen, and neither did Raichu; they were too involved now with their strife. Ash could only watch in dazed awe, and across the field, Gary was doing much the same. Their state was quickly broken as one simple act ended the affair—and began another in a matter of a second. Ducking one of Raichu's attacks, Pikachu's hustling feet entangled, sending him to the ground half-way. Raichu instantly followed up with another shock, this one connecting and eliciting a yelp of discomfort deep from Pikachu's lungs. 

Lifting his head as the current numbed, Pikachu swayed, his mind overtaken with rage. With squinting eyes, he glared at the Raichu, growling warningly. Raichu returned it, but it didn't intimidate Pikachu in the least—it made him angrier, more inflexible. Suddenly, the urge to tackle took hold of him. Taken off guard, he smashed into Raichu and sent him somersaulting numerous times. He didn't wait a single second for Raichu to fight back as he charged once more. Raichu scrambled to his feet, and began to canter away from him, ready to strike again, but by now Pikachu was pursuing him. Raichu had no choice but, with voltage prepared, to take off running, Pikachu right on his heels—directly in the path of the bustling reception at the end of the hill.

The whites of Ash's eyes flared with trauma. "Pikachu, no! Stop! Where are you going?" he yelled as he immediately took off after the Pokémon. 

"Raichu! Come back!" Gary choked, grabbed hold on his Pokéball and tearing after them as well.

"They're heading straight for the party!" Brock hollered in panic.

"No!" Misty exclaimed, the color draining from her face. All of her worries came true in an flash as she watched the Pokémon fly down the hill, Ash pumping his legs frantically, straining to catch them. "Ash!" 

At that, she joined the chase, ignoring the brutal pain as her bare feet beat the hard ground in attempt to catch up.

"Misty! Wait up, hold on!" Brock said, he and Tracey following suit. 

Pikachu and Raichu were now yards ahead of them, sprinting at full speed, looming on the unsuspecting party with their precarious electricity haywire in fury. They barely knew where they were headed, their cutthroat ambition driving them on. Shock after shock discharged from their unrelenting sources.

"Pikachu! P-please, stop! Come back!" Ash pleaded, panting as the sudden run left him breathless. He wouldn't stop, though. His heart pounded as he witnessed them draw dangerously closer and closer to the party. This wasn't supposed to happen! What had gotten into Pikachu? All Ash was frightfully aware of was the regret surging in his veins. This was not good; this was horribly, horribly wrong, it was bad, there was no way he could stop them in time . . .

"Raichu! Return! Now!" Gary was gaining on Ash, just as desperate to catch Raichu. He knew their will to prevail was not going to make them conscious to the fact that they had to stop before slicing a line of mayhem through the party. Brock and Tracey knew this as well, but they could see that the Pokémon were not slowing, and that there was no chance Ash or Gary could recall them in time.

And Misty saw this, too. She was just as scared as Ash, more even. All the despairing thoughts of what would come of this flashed through her mind as she ran on, nearly tripping as her dress got caught between her knees. Oh, why hadn't she tried harder to stop Ash? She knew this was going to go wrong; why had she _given up?_

The music became louder as the distance narrowed between Ash and the party, but unfortunately not between him and Pikachu. It was too late.

"_No!_" he howled as Pikachu and Raichu made a beeline through the party, darting around shrieking people's legs and hurdling over chairs. Heads turned and shouts of commotion were voiced, making Ash practically cry as he, too, ran through the party in pursuit. He could feel the eyes on him, even sense their surprise to see him involved. Gary was right behind him, but Ash knew that made no difference. Everyone there knew him, not Gary.

If matters weren't bad enough, Pikachu and Raichu took the opportunity to make it worse. It was Raichu, actually, who initiated the final and most ruinous incident of their battle, one that Ash would see each and every time he closed his eyes that night after the reception was over. Heading straight for one of the long tables that already seated many guests, Raichu gained slightly ahead of Pikachu and leapt onto the table. Screams of alarm resounded from the people, jumping from their seats as Pikachu hopped to the tabletop, also. Together, in a display of true catastrophe, the contending Pokémon ran down the center, knocking over glasses of soda and cocktails, upsetting centerpieces, and galloping through plates of hors d'oeuvres. It was the slick tablecloth that ultimately ended their run, making the two slip and slide nearly to the end of the table, too stunned to regain themselves. 

"Pikachu! Stop! No!" Ash moaned, his tone high-pitched in despair and humiliation. 

Raichu sat up and shook his fur as Gary came running up, wheezing. "Raichu, return now!" he ordered, and Raichu was recalled into the Pokéball. Gary shakily brought his hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow, blown away at what just occurred. 

"Pikachu! Look what you did!" Ash whined. Pikachu's head perked, and seeing Ash approaching him sent a spark of fright through him. Before Ash had a chance to grab him, he spun around, jumped off the table, and scampered away, leaving his trainer to helplessly give up, his legs like rubber from the unsuccessful chase.

"Oh man," he moaned, shutting his eyes. Taking deep breaths, he heard the hubbub around him, and hesitantly, he turned around to inspect the damage. 

Most eyes were on him, giving him confused and disgruntled looks. Others were tending to the ravished table setting, muttering things Ash wasn't sure he wanted to pick up. Misty, Brock, and Tracey stood at the end of the table watching the ravage's outcomes unfold. His heart raged at the sight of the mess he had a considerable hand in causing. Especially when his eyes met Misty's, and she gave him a disappointed shake of her head, he couldn't feel any more miserable or scared. He knew he screwed up. And judging from the looks he was receiving now, he was certain his image was going to be tarnished for the rest of the party. It was enough to send him into a fit of trembling.

The trembling induced by their looks wasn't half as bad, however, as what was to come. Ash could almost feel the formidable presence behind him, one he wasn't ready to face but knew he had to. Holding his breath, he slowly turned around to behold Jay, gaping at the table with his mouth open in appall. Within a second, his father's eyes rolled on him and promptly narrowed, making Ash's stomach lurch. The peppy and carefree attitude Jay previously had was gone. 

Idly and rigidly, Jay extended his arm and pointed towards Professor Oak's house. "Get in the house," he said densely. "_Now_."

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

__

Hey everyone! Oh geez, I apologize a million times for the wait on this one. I didn't want it to be that long, but school got in the way. Plus, a great deal of this was a Pokémon battle, which I hate writing about because I'm so bad at it. ^^;; I hope it was at least somewhat exciting and understandable. What a mess! :P 

Anyways, school ended, and therefore I will have more than enough time to dedicate to writing the next chapters. There's only the rest of the party and two days afterwards that I have to focus on, so I'm predicting about three more chapters. Don't worry, they're good ones, I assure you! ^__^ In the meantime, hope this was good and long and worth the wait. If not…me sorry. ^^;; Hehe.

Thanks for reading!


	18. Far From Ruined

**Blue Heaven**

_By Spruceton Spook_

Part 18

Far From Ruined

Ash froze. He heard his dad's order, but the fierce flutter of butterflies in his stomach was his only present reaction. Jay wasn't going to tolerate any delay, though. His face tightened furiously as he stormed over to him, making Ash instinctively back away.

"Dad, I—"

"Get in the house," Jay repeated firmly, seizing his shoulder and giving him a forceful shove in the direction of Professor Oak's house. "We need to have a little _talk_."

Ash stumbled forward, and obediently complied. He withdrew his head as he began to make his way across the lawn, throwing one more sheepish glance at the disturbance the two Pokémon—and he—had carelessly caused. The looks he was still receiving made him turn away embarrassingly. He worked his legs hurriedly, wanting to get away from the scene as soon as possible. The fact that his very angry father was behind him undoubtedly added to his hustle as well. But unfortunately there was no escaping the latter.

Chills were running up his neck as he could feel Jay's intimidating presence. _Aw man, how am I gonna get myself out of this?_ he thought. How could he somehow convince Jay that this wasn't entirely his fault, and especially not his intention? How _could_ Jay even think that? Ash wasn't sure, but he knew it wasn't going to be an easy task; his dad was not one to put up with phony excuses.

Gulping, Ash looked over his shoulder slightly. _Might as well start explaining now . . ._ "Uh, Dad, look, I know—"

"Don't talk," interrupted Jay sternly, pointing. "In the house."

Ash winced. This wasn't good—his father wasn't even going to let him _speak?_ He had no idea how this was going to unfold, and he didn't quite want to find out, either. He hoped he could at least attempt to voice his valid explanation—it might be useless, but it was his only chance at redeeming himself.

The number of people was dwindling as they approached the house, making Ash a bit comforted. He knew Jay was going to yell. He didn't feel like having dozens of people hear that . . . though he wondered if the distance between the house and the reception area made a difference, anyway.

_Why did I do this?_ Ash wondered as he opened the back door. He took a deep breath, getting ready to justify his actions. _Why didn't I listen to Misty . . .?_

As soon as he was in the house, his nerves prompted the explanation to come quickly to his lips. "Dad, I know this is bad, and I'm really sorry it happened, but—_oww!_"

The harsh swat to his backside elicited the yelp of pain and surprise that intermitted his words brusquely. Like an electrical shock, it caused Ash to retreat at once, barely escaping Jay's hand as it reached out to snatch him. He spun around to face his enraged father.

"Wait, please hold on a second!" he cried, holding out his hands in defense.

"No hold on!" Jay growled, charging at him again. "Get over here!"

Ash's heart skipped a beat as his dad grabbed his wrist tightly and tried to whirl him around. Frantically, Ash struggled, managing to miraculously twist to safety as his father's hand whisked by and break free of his hold in the process. In an instant he fled to the opposite side of the room, panic flashing in his widened eyes.

"Please, Dad, please, stop! Hold on!" he pleaded desperately, Jay approaching ominously once again. "Please, please, I'm sorry, just let me explain! Please hold on! _Please!_" He backed up as much as he possibly could into the wall, his arms still outstretched in a feeble attempt to stop Jay.

"WHY SHOULD I!?" his father roared. Ash cringed as it made his ears ring terribly. "After what you did, why should I!?"

He came closer, and Ash drew in his breath. "I'm sorry! Just let me explain, please!" he begged, his voice shaking.

Ash wouldn't have been surprised if his dad completely ignored him and walloped him to kingdom come, but to his utter relief, Jay stopped, his aggressive stance easing but not his menacing look. He gave his son a hard glare that dared him to say something to displease him any further.

Ash gulped, trying to formulate the words in his mind before speaking them. "I—I'm really, really sorry," he decided to start with.

"Yeah, I know," Jay scowled. "I've been hearing that a lot from you lately, Ash. What's your reason this time?"

_Oh man . . ._ Ash couldn't believe how tough Jay was going to make this for him. "I am, though," he said. "I'm sorry, I never, ever thought this would happen. I—I just thought that—"

"You just thought that you could battle with Gary without thinking _once_ that maybe this WASN'T THE BEST TIME TO DO IT!" Jay filled in, his voice growing louder with each word. He came at him again, and Ash pressed himself even deeper into the wall, praying that he could pass through it. He gritted his teeth, but Jay thankfully halted again.

"I—I . . ." he stuttered, not knowing what to say next. He had to be careful. One wrong word and Jay would surely refresh the sting on his rear that was slowly numbing away. "I know, it was really stupid," he admitted quietly.

"You're damn right it was stupid!" Jay bellowed. "What was going on in your head? How could you think of doing something like that, having a Pokémon battle in the middle of the reception!? Are you crazy!?"

That wasn't hard to answer. "It was Gary!" Ash blubbered. "I-it wasn't my idea to battle, it was Gary's! He challenged me! Daddy, he challenged me, I couldn't—!"

Jay threw his fists down. "I don't want to hear that! Why were you even with him to begin with? Huh!? Answer me that!"

"He . . . he came up to me," Ash began, tears creeping into the corners of his eyes, "and—and I told him to go away, but he wouldn't! He challenged me to a battle, and I had to accept it!"

"No, that's where you're wrong!" Jay fumed. Ash cowered at the pointed finger he thrust at him as he berated. "You didn't have to accept the challenge! That's no excuse!"

"But what was I supposed to do?" Ash whimpered.

"You were supposed to say _no!_" his dad answered sharply. "I don't care whether he challenged you or not, you should have said no! What's wrong with you, Ash? Didn't it occur to you at all that what you were doing was wrong?"

"But I didn't mean for any of this to happen! It was the Pokémon! It was Pikachu and Raichu; for some reason they started—"

"I don't care what the Pokémon did!" Jay blared. "I care about what _you _did, about what you caused out there! I know you have this—this _thing_ with Gary, but battling at the reception—Ash, this has got to be one of the dumbest things you've—_you don't even have a license!_ What do you think this is!? Not only was what you did wrong, it was _illegal_, too!"

Ash's heart beat intensely. "I . . . I forgot . . ."

"You forgot!" Jay echoed, absurdity in his tone. "You're lucky you just have _me_ to deal with, Ashton! I can't believe this, how you don't think! What's the matter with you? You don't know right from wrong? Or do I have to _remind _you?"

"No," Ash answered quickly, shaking his head. The tears were coming strongly now, but he wasn't attempting to hold them back. Although he didn't want to appear weak in front of his dad, he wondered if it would influence Jay to go easier on him.

"Then tell me why I shouldn't." Jay crossed his arms. The pressure heated up more.

"I . . . Dad, you gotta believe me, I didn't want this to happen," Ash explained, his voice tottering. His back never left the wall; he was still too afraid of his father's unpredictability. "I didn't think the Pokémon would stop listening to us, and—and go crazy at the party! I . . . I just wanted to beat Gary."

"And what gave you the idea that it was okay to battle with Gary?" Jay inquired, cocking a rigid eye at him.

"Because . . . w-well . . . uh," Ash stammered.

"Well _WHAT?!_"

Ash started, finding no choice but to declare his reason. "B-because I don't want him here!"

Jay shook his head fiercely. "No! Don't you dare give me that, Ash! I don't want to hear it."

"But Dad, I don't!" Ash cried again, balling his fists. "Why did he have to come? Why did you invite him!?"

"Why did we invite him!?" his dad repeated incredulously. "Ash, I mean it! Don't give me this crap! Why did we invite him! For God's sake, his mother is _your_ mother's best friend! What the hell were we supposed to write on the invitation, huh? 'Dear Pete, Roseann, and May, we hope you can join us for the celebration, but please don't bring Gary because Ash CAN'T STAND HIM?!"

Ash shrunk back as Jay's voice peaked at its highest. He had to admit, it did sound ridiculous. He understood completely, which, unfortunately, left him at a loss for words. As soon as he realized this, his nervousness increased. Jay was mad as ever, and it was obvious now that he didn't have any decent defense for his actions.

_I'm dead meat_, he though despairingly. _I should've just listened to Misty! She was so right about . . . all of this . . . Why didn't I just keep walking away . . .? I'd be out there having fun right now . . . instead of this._

"That's no excuse for what you did," Jay went on gruffly, his face beet red in fury. "Gary was invited to this party because he and his family are our friends, and if you can't be mature and put your stubborn differences aside for one day, Ash, then there's something really wrong here."

_Mature . . . oh God, I screwed up._ Ash could do nothing at that point but nod. "I know. I'm sorry. I—I should've just ignored him."

"Yeah, well, it's a little too late for that, now, isn't it?"

With glassy eyes, Ash looked into his father's face. "Please, Daddy . . . I'm really sorry. I wasn't thinking. H-he challenged me to a battle, and—and you're a Pokémon trainer! You know how hard it is to turn down a challenge!"

"Yes, but I would've _never_ thought to battle at a wedding reception!" Jay responded hotly. He pointed out towards the party area. "You see what you did out there? Huh, do you!? You're lucky that only happened to one table!" Ash hung his head, the image of the chaos returning swiftly to his mind. "I swear, I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"Dad," Ash spoke softly, not lifting his head, "please . . . don't do anything. I'm really, really sorry." This would be his last attempt. He figured he was in enough trouble that one more shot wasn't going to hurt. With an imploring, regretful face, he looked up.

"I made a mistake. I thought I could beat Gary and it'd be over. He'd leave and . . . nothing bad would happen. I—I promise it won't happen again, Dad. I really do. I'm sorry." He shut his eyes, dreading what Jay would say/do next.

Surprisingly, his father was silent. For a moment, he just glared at him, contemplating what to do, heaving from all the yelling. The sounds of the party continued on, amplified by the awkward stillness that settled. Jay threw a glimpse out the window, but Ash didn't mimic. He kept an attentive eye on his dad, the pause intensifying his anxiety.

Finally, Jay sighed and rubbed his temples exasperatedly. "All right, Ash," he said, making his son perk nervously. His tone was still firm, paired with his likewise glower. "This is the deal. I won't do anything this time, okay? I won't do anything, but I mean it. You are on thin ice right now, you got that? _Paper-thin_ ice. If I so much as catch you anywhere near Gary, or if you do _anything_ to piss me off, you'll be spending the rest of the party _at home_. You understand?"

Ash, overwhelmed with unforeseen relief, couldn't agree to that fast enough. "Yes," he nodded.

"I'm serious," Jay warned one last time, pointing at him stringently. "I really mean it, Ash. I'll send you right home, and I won't even _listen_ to any kind of excuse you have. You behave yourself, or else. Got it?"

"Yes, I got it," Ash replied. He cracked a timid smile. "Thanks, Dad."

"Uh-huh," Jay nodded crossly. His face did not lighten, making Ash's smile drop. Jay had nothing more to say to his son at that point. He turned and stormed off, the sound of the screen door slamming behind him making Ash flinch.

For a second, he lingered motionlessly, recovering in the aftereffect of the rebuke. He threw his head back against the wall, finally able to catch his breath, images of all that had happened in the last ten minutes replaying in his mind. It was over . . . sort of. He survived his father's wrath, but there was still more to dread. The thought of it got his heart racing again.

Hesitantly, Ash managed to move away from the wall. He started for the door, but stopped, the music repelling him rather than luring him this time. He didn't know how he could possibly show his face at the party again. Picturing the looks he'd have to endure and the explanations he'd have to repeat made his stomach sink. But that wasn't the worst of it. He still had Misty to face.

Suddenly, all the warnings she had strictly given him before and during his encounter with Gary reprised in his head. She was so incensed then; how was she going to act now?

_She's not even going to talk to me, I bet,_ he thought despondently. Added to his dad, that now made two people against him. The tears that originated from Jay's severe reprimand came more freely now. _How am I gonna fix this?_

Ash had to force his legs to move, his uneasiness holding him back drastically. With a deep breath, he let himself outside, the warm sunshine greeting him tauntingly. It didn't make him feel any better, and neither did the sight of the party ahead that had previously made him glow with delight. Looking randomly off to the side, Ash caught sight of Jay trudging to the food table, and he promptly shivered. He had to be careful—not just of Gary anymore, but of upsetting his father for the remainder of the day. Escaping Jay's rage was a fortunate feat, but doing it for a second time in one day was unheard of.

Mustering courage again, Ash shambled towards the party, keeping his head down but a keen eye on his surroundings. He felt dozens of eyes on him: criticizing, snooping eyes all wondering what had gone on inside the house. They wouldn't know, but they'd assume. Humiliation overturned his stomach, but Ash tried not to think about it. How was he going to survive the rest of the party?

_It's no use_, he shook his head inwardly. _Everything's ruined . . . Dad's mad at me, Misty's mad at me, I made such a mess . . . I ruined the whole party._

Ash found Misty quicker than he thought he would. Entering the reception area, he seemed to be drawn to her like a magnet. She sat at their table alone, a bored look painted on her face. Ash knew she was far from being bored, though. Not with the line-up of things she would yell at him being devised in her brain.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he slowly made his way over to her, fearing what she would do upon meeting him. Was she going to explode on him? Ignore him? Ash realized that Misty was just as unpredictable as his father was. It was amazing how two very different people could be so alike . . .

Ash's heart lurched the moment Misty laid her eyes on him. He had barely come within ten feet of her, and yet she sensed his presence just as easily as he had sensed hers, it seemed. He paused in mid-stride as their eyes locked, but resumed a second later, shuffling over to her sluggishly. He didn't sit.

There was a brief period of silence that followed. Ash refused to look into her face, disgraced, feeling as though he could bolt at any moment from the tension. He knew she was watching him, though, waiting for him to return the attention or say something. He chose the latter.

"Where's Brock and Tracey?" he asked silently. He strained to look at her, just succeeding.

She stared back at him, emotionless. For a second, Ash didn't even know if she'd respond before she replied dryly, "They went looking for Pikachu."

Ash sat down, a good few inches from Misty. He draped his arms over his lap and hung his head slightly, studying the grass between his knees. "They aren't going to find him," he said. "At least not for a while."

Misty didn't respond that time, making Ash hold his breath. The situation couldn't possibly be any more uncomfortable. If she did have any plans on screaming her head off, she sure felt it necessary to put him through painful suspense. Finally, when the quiet wracked him just enough, he groaned.

"Go on," he told her. "Say it."

Misty gave him an odd look. "What do you mean? Say what?"

"You know what I mean. I know you want to say it. So go ahead."

"No, Ash," Misty shook her head, "I don't know what you mean."

"You do to," he insisted, somewhat fed up with her charade. She said nothing, and he moaned in aggravation. "That I'm an idiot, maybe? That everything you told me not to do I stupidly did and made a huge mess because of it!? _'I told you so?'_"

Misty looked away. "Well . . . why do I have to say it when you already know?"

Ash shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. "Because you _should_ say it to me. You were right, Misty," he said. "You were right about everything. I shouldn't've battled him."

She huffed slightly, rolling her eyes, expecting this. "I know."

"I should've just ignored him."

"_Yeah_."

"I should've just listened to you . . . and—a-and I didn't . . ." His voice floundered. "I ruined everything."

Though she could have tartly agreed once more, Misty held back her remark that time. As disappointed as she was, Ash's insecure emotions stirred her sympathy. He never meant any harm, regardless of how much he may have caused. And this time, as much as he deserved the consequences, was no exception.

"Ash," she sighed wearily, "when is this going to stop?"

"When I never have to see him again," he determined.

"Well, that's not going to happen for a long time," Misty said. "As long as you two are competing in the same league, or living on the _same street_, it's not going to happen. And you know it, Ash. You're going to have to do something different about it. And that doesn't mean picking a fight every time you meet up with him." The reality behind her words made Ash wince. "It has to stop, and you're the one who has to do it."

"But I can't," Ash wailed miserably. "I—I want to, but I can't! You saw the way I was today! I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway. I just can't help it, I can't control myself around him . . ."

"Yes, you _can_, Ash. You're a strong person. I know you can do it. You . . . you just have to learn to think before you do something."

_No kidding_, Ash thought. "I know," he said. "I don't think, and that's my problem. I just . . . I just screwed up everything today! I _screwed up _. . ." At that, his voice broke, but he didn't cry. He just buried his face in his hands, leaving Misty to compassionately massage his back.

"I'm sorry, Misty," said Ash, his voice muffled. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Misty smiled weakly. "It's okay. It's over now, you don't have to be upset anymore."

"Yes, I do," he disputed.

"No, you don't," she said, deeply concerned. _Because I hate when you're upset . . ._

"Yes, _I do_," he repeated resolutely. "Misty, I made such a mess of everything! I—I destroyed that table, Pikachu's run away somewhere, my dad . . . he's so mad at me, he doesn't even want to see me . . . I—I just ruined the whole party."

"Don't say that," Misty said softly, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "You didn't ruin the party."

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't!" she grinned, finding his problem ridiculously exaggerated. "Ash, I was watching what was going on at that table after you left. Most of those people were laughing, you just didn't see it! No one got hurt, if that's what you're worried about. In fact, I'm sure they've already forgotten about it—it's no big deal!"

Ash sighed, wishing it were that easy. At that point, who cared about the people at the _table?_ "There's one person who hasn't forgotten about it," he corrected glumly.

Misty's smile faded. "Your dad?" she guessed sheepishly.

Ash nodded. "He's so mad at me, Misty."

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Sorta. He . . . he just yelled a lot, that's all." He cringed, still astonished on how he narrowly escaped that tight predicament. "But . . . but it was still really bad."

"I can imagine," Misty said understandably. "What did he say?"

"What do you think he said?" Ash frowned.

From his tone, Misty deciphered that the answer to that question was self-explanatory. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Her empathy made Ash shut his eyes disconsolately. "Don't be. This whole day is ruined—_I_ ruined it. And now my dad is so pissed. He—he was so happy, and we were getting along so well, having fun, and now he probably won't even _look_ at me for the rest of the day. It just _sucks!_ I don't want that! I . . . I hate it when he's mad at me."

Misty's heart wrenched at his grief. "So then . . . why don't you go talk to him?" she advised, pity flowing from her sweet voice.

Ash suddenly gave her a ludicrous look. "Are you crazy?" he exclaimed. "I can't talk to him!"

Despite his shock, Misty shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because he'll kill me! There's _no_ way I can go talk to him now!"

Misty gave him a silly smile. "Oh Ash, stop it! He's not going to kill you."

"You don't _know _my dad, Misty! He will!" Ash shrieked frantically.

Slouching, Misty groaned. "Maybe I don't know him, Ash, but if he was going to kill you, he would've done it already."

Ash shut his mouth. She had a point there. Still, he couldn't imagine going anywhere near Jay for the rest of the day. It pained him to think that he couldn't share any more fun with him, but he knew when to keep his distance. Misty had to be crazy.

"Misty," he said seriously, "I can't talk to him. He's ready to kill me as we speak."

"Ash, give me a break!" Misty rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he's cooled down by now. If you go talk to him, you can make everything right again! Trust me."

Ash bit his lip warily. "I don't know . . ."

"If you avoid him, that's just showing him you don't care."

"No, it shows that I'm smart and don't feel like getting my butt pounded!"

"_Ash!_" Misty sighed irritatingly. He just turned away, fiddling with his tie with trembling hands. She could see the sadness in his eyes, depression where there was previously bliss, and it tortured her. He was worrying needlessly; the simple solution to his problem was not as hard as he thought it would be. True, she didn't know Jay that well, but she couldn't stand to see him hopelessly accepting his dilemma. He had to take a chance.

"Ash, I hate to see you like this," she told him gently. "You were so happy before. You were looking forward to this party so much, and it kills me to think that you won't try to make it better. If all you have to do is talk to your dad and try to make up with him, don't you think it's worth a shot?"

Ash thought quietly for a moment. "But what if he won't listen to me?"

"Well, at least you tried then. But I know your dad a little bit, Ash, and I can _promise_ you that he'll listen to you. Maybe it won't work, but there's a chance it _will_. Won't it be great if that made everything better?"

Ash shrugged. "Of course it will. But . . . who am I kidding? He's probably fuming right now. He won't talk to me."

A resounding of laughter suddenly seized Misty's attention. She looked up in the direction of the bar, perking as she concurrently caught sight of Jay. He was anything but fuming; she couldn't help but smile as she watched him guffaw along with four other men, all happily clutching bottles of beer.

"Ash," she said, jabbing him with her elbow. She nodded in the direction of the bar, smirking. "Look, there he is. Now does he look mad to you?"

"Huh?" Ash rapidly turned towards the bar. A chill ran through him as he saw his father, but the hearty fit of chuckling that had taken Jay over eased him into confusion. He couldn't believe that the man who was having so much fun at the moment was the same one who had blasted him minutes ago.

"W-well," he stuttered, "it's because I'm not there. That's why he's happy."

"Oh my God," Misty smacked her forehead. She then motioned wildly at Jay. "Ash, if he doesn't kill you, I _will! Look at him!_ He's laughing, he's smiling! If he's as pissed off as you say he is, he wouldn't be in the mood to have fun! _Go talk to him_."

Ash was still watching Jay affably converse with his those of whom he immediately assumed were his dad's work buddies. It was odd, actually—Ash would have never expected to see Jay that happy again for the rest of the afternoon. It was almost as if their confrontation had never occurred.

"I . . . I don't know, Misty," he said hesitantly. "I'm scared . . ."

"Don't be scared," she persuaded him. She gave him a brusque push, inducing him to jump to his feet. "Didn't I have good advice before . . . even though you didn't listen to it?"

"Um . . . y-yeah . . ."

She smiled brazenly. "Then my advice should be good now, too, right?"

Ash threw another timorous glance at his now good-humored father. "I guess," he exhaled. For a moment, he just stared, not moving.

"Well, then go, silly!" Misty said with another shove. Ash stumbled a bit, paused, then finally proceeded to make his way over to the bar. "Good luck!" he heard her call.

_Yeah, good luck_, he gulped. _I'm gonna need it . . ._

It was a short distance to the bar, making Ash's apprehension skyrocket. He wished it was a little longer so that he could gain some much-needed bravery. His walk was practically glacial, as he was observing his father's actions cautiously. As brief as the trip was, there was always time to turn around and run for it. Ash couldn't count the number of times he felt like doing just that, but he _had_ to fight it. Misty was right: this was the only way he could make things better. And he really wanted that.

The guys were still engaged in a fit of laughter as Ash drew closer. He couldn't resist the small smile that etched his lips as a result of the cheerful ruckus. When people laughed, it made him happy, regardless of how he felt. Being utterly terrified, as he was now, made no difference. But as the range between them dwindled, questions and doubts invaded Ash's brain. Did these guys happen to witness the scene he made? What would they say? It was one thing to talk about his situation with others, but in front of his _dad?_ Ash's heart pounded. Was this really the best thing to do, or was he setting himself up for more embarrassment?

_No! No, Misty knows what she's doing. And . . . and this has to go right. It has to—Daddy, please don't be mad at me, please . . . _

Jay's back was to him slightly. Ash experienced a rather uncomfortable chill, wondering one last time if what he was doing was right. Taking a deep breath, he took the chance. Hesitantly, he reached out and gently tugged on his dad's shirt sleeve, unconsciously putting on the most innocent look his face could produce.

"Dad?" he asked, whispering.

Startled, Jay whipped around. "Ash?" he gasped in surprise.

Ash gave him a bashful, crooked smile, his head sinking in his shoulders. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Jay blinked, unable to register the shock at beholding his son. Before he could utter a word, though, an energetic voice rang out.

"Jay! Is this your _kid?_" the man asked excitedly. Ash looked up to see the four work-pals grinning broadly at him.

Jay regained himself quickly. "Uh, y-yeah," he smiled. "Yeah, this is Ash."

"Hey, Ash!" chimed the man with slicked blond hair, looking to be the youngest of the group. Switching his beer from his right to his left, he extended his hand for Ash to shake. "I'm Matt. What's going on?"

Ash could only shrug, but his smile came genuinely. He was still nervous, but the warm attention was making him gradually relax.

"Oh man, Jay, he looks just like you!" another man marveled, shaking his head. "Spitting image!"

"Ugh, just what this world needs—another Jay Ketchum," groaned Matt sarcastically. "Ain't that right, Ash?"

Ash shrugged again, giggling softly. "I dunno."

"So how old are you there, little Jay?" another asked, this one probably older than his father. His voice was just as spirited—it was no doubt in Ash's mind that these guys were having a grand time.

"Eleven," he answered in a small, childish voice that came naturally.

"Eleven!? God, the last time I saw you, you were just a little tyke!" proclaimed the last, who Ash hardly recognized at all. "I remember you when you were this high!" He leveled his hand off around his mid-thigh area.

_No wonder I don't remember him_, Ash almost laughed. "Really?"

"So what have you been up to, Ash? What grade are you in now?"

"Actually, Ash just got back from his Pokémon journey a couple months ago," Jay suddenly said, wrenching Ash's head up. He was shocked that his dad joined the genial conversation—and with such liveliness in his voice. He gaped.

"Get out! A trainer? Is that so!" That was Matt again. Ash liked him a lot. He was so happy and animated—and probably half-way drunk, too, but Ash didn't care. A grin stretched from ear to ear at the mention of his travels.

"Yeah, I'm trying out for the Johto League right now," he said, the shyness readily leaving his voice.

_Guess they didn't see me ruin the party, after all . . ._

"The Johto League, huh?"

"You got badges yet, Ash?"

"Sure do," Ash replied, proudly holding up two fingers. "Got two so far."

"Two? Oh, that's awesome!" exclaimed Matt. "In fact—Jay! You tried out for Johto, too, didn't you?"

Jay huffed humorously. "Centuries ago, yeah." Giving Ash an admirable smirk, he reached out to tousle his hair. Ash tensed as his dad's hand neared him, but the loving gesture quickly eased his nerves. "Ash is already miles ahead of me, though. I didn't accomplish half the things he has at his age."

"Wow," the older guy shook his head. "Sounds like you're doing very well there, Ash. You must be so proud of him, Jay."

Ash watched as a humble smile pried at his father's lips. "I am," he said with unmistakable sincerity. He gazed at Ash, who couldn't hold back his coquettish grin. "I really am." With his attention now on him, Jay lifted his eyebrows inquisitively.

"What is it you wanted, son?"

Despite the gentleness of his tone, Ash's smile faded as his original purpose sent an abrupt, fidgety wave through him. "Can I talk to you—alone?" he requested, wringing his hands.

Jay faltered for a second, then managed a smile. "Sure. Sure." He patted his shoulder and turned to his friends. "Guys, I'll be back in minute, all right?"

"You got it," Matt raised his beer. He winked at Ash. "See ya later, little Jay."

"Bye," Ash waved. As the farewell was reciprocated, he turned and began ambling towards the house. Jay followed right behind, cocking a baffled eye.

"What is it?" he asked, wondering what could possibly be so important as to prompt Ash to bravely face him so soon. So soon—it was barely ten minutes! He figured he wouldn't see his son for a good hour or so, or for the rest of the day even, as Ash was always inclined to stay far away from him after such an incident. Whether it be out of fear or resentment, Ash presumably made himself scarce.

"No, not here," Ash replied. "In the house." He almost laughed at the irony—here _he_ was, leading his dad to the site of their recent conflict. The same thought arose in Jay's mind, increasing his curiosity. Taking a slug of his beer, he said not a word, keeping that same bizarre eye on his boy.

Ash took a deep lung-full of air as they entered house, which, again, was empty and quiet. He was very nervous, but the possibilities of his dad yelling at him or punishing him were not among his current fears. After shooting the breeze with Jay's friends and the fond praise his father had openly given him, Ash was certain his temper had quelled—but not yet his displeasure. He wanted that gone, too, but for now, it was merely a hope.

He didn't acknowledge Jay right away, as he was lost in concentration. Jay wasn't willing to wait much longer, though, his ignorance of Ash's intention making him more confused by the minute.

"Now, what is it?" he finally inquired, more out of concern than impatience.

Ash, feeling his emotions creep back threateningly, hesitated before subjecting him to a beseeching face. "Are you still mad at me?" His voice was a squeak, his eyes flooding with tears. As soon as the words left his mouth, he braced himself, still unable to predict his dad's response. He barely breathed, the suspense being so fierce.

Jay gawked at him, overcome all at once with Ash's fragile emotions. "Uh, w-well, Ash, I—"

"Please don't be mad at me," Ash whimpered. "I hate when you're mad at me, I h-h-hate it." His lower lip quivered, trying to fight back tears as best he could. At that, Jay's face fell, his heart helplessly going out to him. His teetering feelings on the so-called "disaster" his son initiated finally swayed to the other side.

"Oh Ash," he smiled sympathetically. He hastily set his beer down on the coffee table and went over to him, embracing his head tenderly. "Come here. It's all right, I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at you."

There was no fear, no resentment coming from Ash this time. Squinting back his tears, he returned the hug, clutching his arms around his dad's waist fervently. "I'm sorry," he whined inaudibly, burying his face in Jay's chest.

"It's okay," Jay shushed, stroking his hair. He felt Ash grab taut fistfuls of his shirt, relishing in the comfort of his forgiveness. "Don't cry. It's okay. Don't worry, I'm not mad at you anymore." Carefully, he pried Ash away, and knelt down.

"Hey, I'm not mad at ya," he reassured lightly. "I'm disappointed in what you did, yes, but I'm not mad—not anymore. I was, but that . . . that's because I was upset, and you know how easily I get upset. I should've calmed down, but . . . you know, kid, you can't keep doing stuff like this."

"I know," Ash lowered his head, wiping at his eyes. "I'm such an idiot."

"No," Jay disagreed, grasping his arms in a firm but affection hold, "you're not an idiot. Don't say that. You made a mistake, that's all."

"Yeah, but I make _a lot_ of mistakes," Ash mumbled, feeling more disgusted with himself through his self-degrading. As much as he craved pardon, there was still a little part of him that felt he wasn't fully entitled to it. He didn't even want to look into Jay's face, but his dad's alleviating voice seduced his frail spirit.

"No, you don't, Ash," Jay replied. "You just have to learn to think about things before you do them. That's an easy way you could have prevented this whole thing today, you know. I mean, think about all the recent times you've encountered Gary." Ash didn't even want to think about the last one, but he continued to listen to the mild speech he wished Jay had given before instead of . . . well, he didn't want to think about _that_, either. "Think about the sleepover, how that turned out. You knew that was going to be bad. And you probably thought this would turn out bad, too, didn't you?"

His brow furrowing, Ash shrugged. "Actually, I thought this would be the end of it," he admitted. "I—I thought this would finally prove that I'm a better trainer than he is. If—if I didn't accept the challenge, then—"

"Then you would've looked weak," his father filled in knowingly. Ash nodded. "I know what you mean. I could never turn down a challenge, either. It's a tough thing to do, especially when, like you said, you want to really prove yourself. And with the way you and Gary've been—Ash, I completely hear ya, kiddo. I know it was hard, but tell me this." He looked straight into his eyes, Ash shakily but intently doing the same. "Was it worth what happened out there?"

Ash paused shortly, then shook his head. "No."

Jay smiled. "At a time like that, you have to think about things before you do them. I mean, battling Gary at the reception when you don't have a license?"

"I forgot about that, Dad, I didn't even think about it—"

Jay laughed, holding his hand up to pacify him. "I know, I know, chill out. But what about the other two, huh?"

Ash didn't want to smile, but he couldn't help it. "I'm know, I'm so stupid . . ."

"Ash, hey! What did I say? You're _not_ stupid. All you did was make a mistake—a dumb one, but an understandable one. This whole rivalry you have going on, Ash, it's just—I don't know, I've never experienced anything like this, but I can imagine how you couldn't think straight, what with that stubborn determination of yours and the pressure and stuff . . ." He sighed. "What you should've done was just ignore him. You shoulda just said, 'Sorry, Gary, I rather feel like dancing,' or—or, hell, Ash, you just shoulda told him to get lost! Your mom and I couldn't have said that in the invitation, but you coulda."

"I know," Ash laughed quietly, but feeling repentant at the same time. "That's exactly what Misty said. I—I should've listened to her."

"That Misty," Jay remarked laudably. "She really knows how to look after you, don't she?"

"She does," Ash agreed emphatically. He shook his head, however. "But I didn't listen her. I just went and battled Gary, and made a huge mess . . ."

Jay couldn't stand to hear Ash take another stab at himself. Although he wasn't pleased with his son's diversion, he regretted his own behavior earlier. Recurrently he swore to allow himself time to cool down before dealing with Ash, but his temper took over most of the time. He couldn't show Ash just how much he valued and was amazed at his boldness to amend things, but he would try. He started by drawing him into another hug.

"Ash, listen to me, pal," he said, squeezing him with every serious and loving muscle he had. "It's okay. This is a learning experience. Even if you screwed up this time, it's not a complete loss. You learned something from all of it. You have to realize that there's a time and a place for things. Okay? Maybe if this was the middle of a boring week, a battle with Gary would've been okay. But not here, bud. It wasn't good here. In fact . . . I'd prefer it really if you didn't see Gary anymore for _any_ reason, but, heh, I can assume you don't want that, either, huh?"

He finally allowed Ash to lift his head off his shoulder. "I don't want to see him ever again," he avowed. "I didn't want to see him today, either, but he just came up to me . . ."

"I know. And Ash, that's where you come in. If you don't want to see him, or battle with him, or whatever, then you don't have to." He poked Ash's chest softly with his finger and made his ticklish boy fidget. "That's the best way to deal with him. Look where it's gotten you lately—where it's gotten you with _me!_" He smirked, arching an eye at him. "You _know_ Daddy don't like it when you're around Gary."

"No kidding!" Ash chuckled through a wince.

"Yeah. But hey, look, everything's okay," continued Jay gingerly. "It's not the end of the world what you did today . . . and—and I'm sorry if I made you think that with the way I went off at you."

Ash's smile suddenly fell. "But . . . I ruined the party," he lamented, hanging his head shamefully once again.

"Ruined the party!" his father snorted, rolling his eyes at the nonsense of such a statement. "You _did not_ ruin the party, Ash. What's the worst you did, knock over some glasses and squish a few mini hotdogs? Big whoop! That doesn't constitute ruining the party." Jay didn't know why he was laughing. It was because of him that Ash probably felt this way, but a grin of sheer solace reversed his son's frown.

"Like I said, it's okay. If anyone's an idiot, it's me. I get too mad too fast, and this always happens, doesn't it? We always wind up apologizing to each other, don't we?"

"I guess," Ash responded, but he was aware of how true that really was.

Jay reached up and kneaded Ash's shoulder. "You made a mistake today, kid. That's all it was. Everyone makes mistakes. Trust me, you know the extent of the mistakes _I've_ made," he added, his voice lowering solemnly. "Mine were a lot worse than you upsetting a dinner table."

"But I love you, anyway," Ash breathed, hitting the point dead-on.

"Exactly," Jay beamed, the word coming out in an ardent puff of air. "You're a good kid. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, _especially_ me. Got it?"

Ash nodded eagerly, his brown eyes glistening with indescribable delight. When Jay told him he was good, it melted his heart in a way that made him feel lighter than air, happier than "a Shellder in mud," as his mom would say.

"So are we good now?" Jay asked hopefully. "Everything straightened out?"

"Yup," Ash gleamed.

"You're okay, right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Jay cringed worriedly.

Ash scrunched his nose, grinning. "Nah."

"Oh, damn. Well, then I'm gonna have to do it again," Jay scoffed with a serious face, putting his hands on his hips.

Ash narrowed his eyes in challenge, and the two laughed. Jay grasped his son in his arms, rocking him back and forth in a hug with enough brisk strength to almost topple Ash over if not for his mighty hold.

"I'm just joking ya," Jay said. "I wouldn't dare. You're too old for that, anyway, aren't ya?"

"Do you expect me to say no?" Ash shrugged innocently. His dad chuckled.

"So." Jay slapped his knees as he rose to his feet. "How you liking the party so far? You know, aside from . . . _ehhh_." He grunted the last part, throwing it away with a sneer that made Ash laugh.

"It's really cool," he replied. "The DJ's real good, and the food is great!"

"Yeah, well, that's your mother for you," Jay glorified. "That woman's a _goddess_ with food. I swear, I don't know how I survived three years without her cooking. I really don't."

"Same here. Brock's good, but give me a break!" He and his father laughed again.

"So what are you going to do now for the rest of the party?" Jay asked. The DJ's trumpeting voice suddenly rang out above the pulse of music, but from inside the house his cry was indecipherable. "Gotta make sure you don't have any other plans of mischief."

"_Dad_," Ash groaned, and Jay smirked devilishly. His voice lowered, impishly insulted. "Shut up, I don't have any plans of mischief."

Jay crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah?" he demanded playfully. "Let's hear 'em, then."

"Well," Ash said whimsically, looking at the ceiling, "I was planning on finding my friends . . ."

"Nope," Jay shook his head. "Too mischievous. Sorry."

Ash snickered. "I can't find my friends?" he asked with a pout.

"Of course you can," Jay smiled. "What else?"

"Ummmm . . . can I dance some more?"

"Surely," Jay nodded permissibly.

"Can I . . . get some food?"

Jay's face brightened. He pulled up his sleeve to check his watch. "Well, it's almost three o'clock. And you know what that means."

"Dinnertime!" Ash exalted in reply.

Jay roared with laughter. "You got it, kiddo! Anything else?"

"Ummm . . ." Ash perked. "Can I have a beer?" His face was capricious, but his request was real, and Jay, who burst into laughter again, knew this well.

"Yes," he conceded through his chuckles, "you can have a beer. But only half-a-one, okay? Don't need you getting all tipsy now to boot. You'll give your mom a heart attack."

"No problem," Ash compromised. He then grimaced as he pulled at his shirt collar. "Can I take my jacket off, Dad? It's reallyhot."

"Sure, of course you can!" Jay said, helping his son out of his heavy sports coat. He threw it over the arm of the couch. "I know, it's way too hot for these outfits. I don't want you dropping dead of heatstroke."

"Can I take my tie off, too?"

"Suuuure." His eyes then widened prankishly. "And your pants, too?" he exclaimed, lunging to give Ash's pants a quick tug.

"Dad!" he shrieked, leaping away in a flash. "No!"

"Fine, fine," Jay chortled. He then took off his own jacket, but only loosened his tie while Ash tossed his over the armrest.

"Oh man, that's so much better," Ash sighed. He clasped his eyes shut in relief, basking in the fresh blast of cool air that was an utter blessing to his sweltering body.

"Yeah, it is," Jay said, resting his hands on his hips comfortably. "Alrighty then . . . let's just hope nobody steals our clothes here, and we'll go see what's going at the party. Whaddah ya say?"

"Sounds good to me!" Ash proclaimed. Jay laughed, and putting an arm around his son's shoulder and reclaiming his beer, the two contentedly began their way back to the party.

Ash was a bit more than content, however. The secure feeling of his dad holding him close, the warmth of the sun encompassing him (but not too much now, thanks to his lighter apparel), and the thought of the delectable dinner only minutes away stirred him ecstatically. He couldn't wait to thank Misty, either. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have been happy for the rest of the day. He owed her big time.

"You want that beer now, buddy?" Jay asked as they neared the tables.

In the meantime, Ash's mind had wandered elsewhere. "Uh, in a minute," he replied, breaking away and pointing towards one of the seating areas. "I wanna go find Misty first."

Jay smiled, giving a nod of his head. "You go do that. I'm gonna go find Mommy—see what she's up to."

At the sound of that, Ash's face suddenly darkened. "She doesn't know, does she?"

"I'm not sure. But if she does, don't worry about it, okay? I'll straighten it all out."

A smile lifted Ash's face. "Thanks, Dad!"

"You got it." Jay gave him a thumbs-up, and in an instant, Ash spun on his heels and practically skipped back to where he had left Misty. The result of his talk with Jay rared to spill from his lips before he even reached her, he was so excited.

Ash was surprised to see that Misty was not the only one waiting to greet him. Brock and Tracey were now sitting at the table, and the three were chatting amongst themselves airily. Misty's head was the first to turn.

"Ash!" she cried, leaping from her seat. Her delighted smile grew wider as she noticed Ash's unquestionable look of happiness and the spring in his step—the sign of good news.

"Hi, guys," Ash greeted. He panted soundly and ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

"What happened?" Misty asked softly, optimism flowing in her tone. "Is—is everything okay?"

Ash shut his eyes blissfully. "Everything's great!"

"Yes, yes!" Misty clapped her hands, bounding on her toes to give him a hug. "I'm so glad. See, I told you!"

"I know," replied Ash as they broke away. He gazed into her big blue eyes, sparkling with relief and joy. "You were right, Misty. Thanks for making me do that."

"So everything's better?" she nearly squealed.

"Dad apologized to _me_," Ash answered, comically smug. "Everything's a whole lot better." He beamed, and finally looked to Brock and Tracey, who both gave him lopsided smiles.

"We, uh, found someone you're probably looking for," Brock informed him, motioning to the ground with a nod of his head.

"Huh?" Ash cocked his eyebrows with interest, but found himself looking only at the slightly sun-scorched grass until Tracey cleared his throat.

"Come on out, Pikachu," he bid, and hesitantly, two long, yellow ears poked out from beneath the table cloth, followed by two very uncertain eyes.

Ash couldn't check the short laugh that escaped him. Despite this, Pikachu cowered and withdrew under the table again. A pang of sympathy flew through Ash, knowing very well how Pikachu felt. Softening his face kindly, he extended his arm down carefully and invitingly to his timid friend.

"Come here, Pikachu," he cooed, "it's okay."

Pikachu wavered, but reluctantly slid out from the table's refuge, the tablecloth momentarily being caught by his jagged tail. He clambered up his trainer's arm with a few sprightly hops and settled on his shoulder, but the tense, shamed look remained sunken into his face.

"Hey, don't worry about it, buddy," Ash said again, his smile curving forgivingly. He reached up to stroke Pikachu's chin, then grabbed his ear firmly but not painfully. He chuckled in a part-friendly, part-stern manner. "Just please don't pull something like that again, okay?"

Pikachu grinned, sweatdropping. "Pikachu," he replied hastily, very resolved on agreement, and Ash released his ear to give his head another vigorous rub.

"Look at you!" he then groaned, his face distorting at the notice of the not-so-tidy state his Pokémon was in. "You got cocktail sauce and . . . ugh, I don't know what you got on you!" He snickered as he grabbed a napkin and began to wipe the residue of Pikachu's tabletop escapade off his feet and stubby legs, praying that it didn't get on his immaculate shirt.

"Pika pika." Pikachu shut his eyes with a smile, enjoying the momentary cleaning massage.

"Hey, Ash, I think they're going to be serving dinner soon," Brock chimed in.

"Yeah, you're right! It's almost three," Ash replied excitedly, getting the last of the condiments out of Pikachu's fur. His stomach rumbled at the mention of it, and he blushed.

"Sounds like you didn't need anyone to remind you of that," Misty teased.

"Well, getting into a Pokémon battle turned horribly wrong gets me pretty hungry," Ash laughed, not at all hesitant to joke about his earlier predicament. Reminding himself of the event once again, though, he grit his teeth.

"Uh . . . you—you guys didn't happen to see what happened to Gary, did you?" he asked, expecting the chorus of groans that followed. "Hey, I'm just asking!" he defended himself. "I'm curious, that's all."

Misty smiled, safely knowing that Ash had no intentions of repeating his mistake. "Well, after your dad took you into the house, I saw his mom chewing him out a bit. I haven't seen him since, though."

"Me neither," Tracey said. "He might've gone home."

"Let's hope for that," Brock said. "We don't need to see _anymore_ today."

"So, uh . . ." Ash said, tapping his fingertips together, "if he _did_ go home, that means I beat him, right?" More groans rang out.

"What?" Ash exclaimed whimsically.

"Nothing!" Misty narrowed her eyes at him playfully. Ash flashed her a frisky smile at that, and she shook her head, smirking.

"What?"

"You're so funny."

"I'm funny? Why?"

"Because you've gone through a million emotions today!" she answered, throwing her arms in the air. "I mean, let's see, since this morning, you've been happy, excited, emotional, hyper, hungry, crazy, sad, mad, determined, _stubborn_, _moronic_, then scared, worried, mopey, whiny, and now you're back to happy again!" As she had recited, her head had bobbed back and forth, making Ash nearly double over with laughter.

"Did I really go through that many?"

"And many, many more," Brock said wearily.

"You forgot thankful," Tracey added.

"That's right," Misty agreed. "And forgiving, too."

Ash smiled, pulling Pikachu's head close to his fondly. "Of course."

"Pika!" Pikachu chirped happily, getting another pat from his trainer.

"I went through _that_ many today, though?" Ash asked, still astonished. "Wow. I'm really colorful, aren't I?"

"Well . . ." Misty then bit her lip, giving Ash a mysterious eye. "You haven't shown the one yet that I'm waiting for."

Confusion seized Ash. "Huh? Which one's that?"

"_Laaaaadies and gentlemen!_" the voice of the DJ sharply interrupted their conversation. The speakers were still blasting the remainder of a dance song, though it was beginning to fade into a slower, more favorable song appropriate for dining. "Dinner is now being served at the buffet table. Go annnnn' get it!"

"Well, he doesn't have to tell me twice," Brock smiled.

"Me neither!" Ash chuckled. "I'm starving! Come on, let's go get on line!" He was about to dash off, but Misty snatched hold of his arm.

"Hold on a second, Ash," she said. She then looked over at Brock and Tracey. "Guys, go get on line. I want to talk to Ash. We'll be there in a second to cut in front of you." She gave them a silly wink.

"Don't I feel used," Brock slumped, though facetiously.

"I sympathize with you," Tracey nodded.

"I say we don't let them cut," Brock mused, holding his head high impudently and crossing his arms. "What do you think, Trace?"

"I say I'll get in front of you on that line in a way you're not going to remember _fondly_," Misty snapped pointedly before Tracey could answer. She narrowed her eyes severely at Brock, who was now grinning nervously.

"Uhh . . . right, yeah," he backed away slowly, hands outstretched. The look on Misty's face was not one to mess with. "Cutting in line sounds good to me, ehehe."

Misty tossed her head. "Good," she smiled.

With that, Brock and Tracey sauntered off, stifling laughs. Pikachu vaulted from Ash's shoulder and followed them, leaving Ash and Misty to themselves. Ash's stomach twisted hungrily at the sight of them going off to eat, but he didn't have much time to brood over it before he felt Misty tug him forcefully in the opposite direction.

"Uh, Misty? Where are we going?" he asked. "Don't you wanna go eat?"

"In a minute." She turned to give him a wide smile. "Gotta do something first."

Ash cocked his eye, engaged by her ambiguity but still uneasy from it. He followed her as she led him behind the tent and past the packed tables, all the way to the shady cluster of trees that they had passed on the way to his and Gary's battle.

"Misty, what are we doing?" he asked again as she stopped them behind the trees, out of sight from the rest of the party. Their screening should have given him a clue, but it was only until Misty pressed her lips into his that he abruptly discovered the reason.

Despite the suddenness, he melted into the kiss rather easily. He shut his eyes with a relaxing sweep, loosening his fists to rest his hands delicately at her sides. Misty wrapped her hands around his shoulders and pulled him closer in. Their kiss had matured over the weeks, became more passionate, less tense. It was enough to send both of their hearts racing, Ash's especially, who instantly felt the burden of his troubles wash clean away.

Misty parted the kiss, gazing into his eyes relishingly. Ash, mesmerized by her look and the effect of her warm, moist lips on his, cracked a shaky smile, a dazed but utterly pleased look brightening his face.

"There it is," Misty gleamed. "That's the emotion I've been waiting for."

Flushing, Ash scratched the back of his head. "So, uh, I guess that means you don't hate me for what I did today?"

"Of course not," she giggled. "I can never hate you, even if you do act like an idiot sometimes."

"You mean all the time."

"No! I don't mean all the time. You're not being an idiot right now."

"No . . . I'm too hungry!" he admitted with a grin.

"Oh, Ash!" Misty gave his shoulder an affectionate punch, shaking her head. "Well, we better feed your stomach before you get any more crazy ideas."

"Yeah . . . gotta build up my strength for when I challenge Gary later," Ash said, sticking his tongue out. Misty's eyes widened, and he took off, his girlfriend chasing behind as they sprinted towards the buffet table.

TO BE CONTINED . . .

_Well, that turned out longer than expected. I had another scene in here earlier, and I was all for keeping it in, but when this thing started to exceed 30 pages, I realized, whoa, no, that's way too much. (Sorry Dragoness! ) Don't worry, you'll get the scene next chapter, and I realized that despite what I thought before, it begins the next chapter very well. This was long enough anyway! Eek! Did you like long? Was it too long? I'm debating whether or not to officially change the title to "The Story That Never Ends." What do you say? Like that better than "Blue Heaven"? Review and tell me what you think of the new title--nah, I'm just kidding. LOL_

_Anyway, hope the wait wasn't too incredibly long--this chapter was hard to write. And the next will probably be even harder--this ain't an easy fic to write for some odd reason. ;; But I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the ones to come. sniff It's going to be over before you know it! But thankfully, at the sad rate I'm going at, the end won't come for a while. :P_

_Thanks for reading!_


	19. Midnight Gala

**Blue Heaven**

_By Spruceton Spook_

Part 19

Midnight Gala

"What about now? Can we dance now?" asked an impatient Misty for about the tenth time. The soft flicker of the tiki lanterns danced in her eyes and warmed her face with a golden hue.

Ash winced as he swallowed a piece of cake. He gazed out at the dozen or so couples on the dance floor, swaying to the flowing, upbeat rhythm of the standards that had replaced the wild disco music of earlier afternoon.

"N-not yet," he replied, digging at the cake with his fork. "I'm not done with my cake yet. Can't you see?"

"Ash," Misty groaned, "that's the third piece of cake you've had!"

"'m hungwy!" Ash shrugged, his mouth full. "An' it's goo' cake!"

"How could you possibly be hungry?" Misty asked. "You had about three servings of dinner, not to mention all the appetizers _before that._ You're gonna explode!"

Ash narrowed his eyes, licking icing off his lips. "I'm growing."

"Yeah, to about two-hundred pounds by the time the night's over. Come on, can't we dance? You promised me we could dance after dessert."

As her voice peaked to a whine, Ash quavered. She wasn't going to let up, which was what he feared. Of course, he hadn't feared it the entire night. After they had set down for an hour at dinner, Ash was eager to do anything, even to go back to dancing. And they did; as the sun had begun to sink behind the mountains, and the first of the lanterns were being lit, the dance floor crammed with guests ready to dance the night away. Ash had fun leaping around to the pop and dance and the ever-energizing _Electric Slide_ and _Locomotion_, but this . . . this was different.

Nobody was leaping around anymore. The music had softened. Everyone on that dance floor was connected, embracing, concentration set on the person before them rather than the invigorating stir of the music. It was . . . _intimate_.

He forced down another mouthful. "A-and we will, Misty. Okay? Just . . . finish your coffee and let me finish my cake, and we'll go out." The excuse didn't sound _too_ feigned.

"Ash, I finished my coffee," Misty slurred. But Ash seemed to conveniently not hear her. It was also rather peculiar that he had suddenly gone from wolfing down his cake to delicately finishing it off in meager portions.

_Oh, you!_ Misty sagged but smiled inwardly; she knew why Ash didn't want to go out there. It was clear as day, but as much as it irritated her, it made her body warm with endearment. _You're so cute_. All he needed was a bit of coaxing, and he'd go out there with her. That's what it all came down to. There was no way she would let the night end without their dance.

She knew what to do. "Fine, whatever," she grumbled. "If you're gonna sit there all night stuffing your face, then I'll get Brock to dance with me." She lifted herself out of her chair and craned her head to catch sight of Brock across the way, apparently engaged in a one-sided conversation with a very uninterested older girl.

"Brock!" she hollered. His head jerked at the sound of his name, but upon seeing Misty gesture frantically for him to come, promptly scowled and mouthed a "_no_." She scowled right back and beckoned him over grimly again. Brock shot her a very indignant _hold-on-a-minute!_ look before adjusting his tie suavely and turning back to the girl.

"Uh, you're gonna hafta excuse me—" He didn't need to say anything further. He was talking to air.

His face reddening, he stomped over. "Gee, thanks a lot, Misty!" he hissed. "What do you want already? I was going to get a dance with her!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Misty apologized impassively. "How about you dance with me instead, Brock?"

"What? Why?"

The disaffection in his voice made her start. "Why? You don't want to dance with me?" she asked, pained and stunned all at once.

"Oh! Oh, no no, I didn't mean that!" Brock sweatdropped. "Of course I'll dance with you! I—I just thought . . ." He trailed off, looking down at Ash shoveling another piece of cake into his mouth.

"Oh, Snorlax?" Misty said tartly. "He won't dance with me." That grabbed Ash's attention, but not before Brock spoke up incredulously.

"You won't dance with her?" He then smiled slyly. "What's wrong? You scared?"

Ash choked, struggling to swallow his food in order to defend himself.

Misty scoffed. "He cares more about his stomach than he does me."

"So what is that, like the tenth piece of cake you've had? Get up and dance with her!"

"No, it's the third!" Ash spat as soon as he swallowed, jumping to his feet. "And of course I'll dance with her, I'm not scared! I just had to finish my cake, and I did!"

"_Hooray!_" Misty cried joyfully, grabbing his wrist. "Good, then we can go dance! C'mon!" Within an instant, she was hauling him onto the dance floor.

Ash's testy glare quickly vanished as he realized the pitfall he had been led into. He didn't notice her turning to share a secretive thank-you wink with Brock, who returned it knowingly; he was nervously mindful of all the other people out there, his parents included. He was going to dance . . . in front of them? His excitability intensified as Misty stopped them, took his left hand in hers, and settled her other hand gently on his shoulder. Automatically, and despite his muddle, his hand rested precisely where it belonged, grazing against the appealing smoothness of her dress.

"There we go," Misty grinned as they began to waltz spiritedly to the music. "Isn't this fun?"

Ash didn't have any time to grasp his bearings, but he managed to smile. "I guess," he shrugged.

"Well, either it is or it isn't," laughed Misty.

Ash continued to smile, but his eyes timidly wandered to his parents, rollicking in the center of the floor without a care in the world. His mother's smile lit her face in exhilaration; his dad was buoyant, practically gliding and bringing Delia along for the ride.

_I want to be like that, too . . ._ "I—I dunno," he finally responded. "It's just that I've never danced like this before . . ."

"Aww! It's okay, Ash! You're doing great!" Misty assured.

"I am?" Ash brightened coyly.

"Of course you are!" she smiled. "You're not stepping on my feet. That's a big plus."

Realizing this, Ash smile grew, feeling significantly better with the simple praise. "I'd never step on your feet, Misty! Besides . . . I'm not moving my feet that much, anyway." He forced himself to admit the last part. His feet were barely lifting a centimeter off the ground, as if held back by stringy crazy glue.

Misty giggled. "That's okay. I like it just the way we're doing it."

"Really? Then I guess it is fun!" he proclaimed happily.

And it was the truth. In the few moments that followed, he was beginning to fall into the flow of the dance, letting the music drown out his uneasiness and arouse his feet. He squeezed her hand and stared into her shimmering eyes, and suddenly felt like he belonged out there.

"Thanks for coming out with me," Misty beamed. "I've been waiting all night for this."

"Ya have?" Ash didn't know why he sounded so shocked.

"Yeah. In fact—what am I saying? _All night?_ I've been waiting _forever_ to do this with you." Blushing, she looked away, clasping his hand a bit more strongly.

Ash smiled humbly, trying to fight away his own blush. "Well, I have to admit it, Misty. I wasn't really looking forward to dancing like this, but . . . I'm glad we are. I really like it."

"You were nervous?" she assumed.

Ash cringed. "Really nervous. And . . . I still kinda am, I guess. You know, with my parents probably watching us and all."

Misty twisted her head to look at Jay and Delia, but their attention was currently not on them. "And what's wrong with that? Are we forbidden to dance or something?" she chuckled.

"No, of course not!" replied Ash. "It's just—" He didn't want to say embarrassing, because it wasn't. He couldn't really find the word he was searching for to describe how he felt. What did it mean to be tense but proud at the same time?

"Just what?"

He paused awkwardly before saying, "Special." She cocked her head attentively, and he attempted to elaborate.

"It's special . . . kinda like when—well, like when you're opening presents on your birthday. It's a lot of fun, and it's exciting, but when everyone's watching you, and waiting for you to open the present and taking pictures and all that stuff, it feels . . . it makes you feel nervous, too, you know, with all those eyes on you watching you enjoy your special moment." Ash stopped and smiled embarrassingly, figuring he was making no sense.

But Misty smiled in comprehension. "Ash, I know exactly what you mean."

"You do?"

"Sure! I've kinda felt that way about our whole going-out thing in front of Brock. I'm so happy we're together, but after all the three of us have been through together, it's weird . . . but it's special." She laughed as the word came up again. "Kinda like showing off but being embarrassed about it, too."

Ash couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt nervous when it came to their relationship concerning Brock, but he never thought always-confident Misty felt the same way. They must have been putting on quite a show in front of their friend all these weeks.

"Sooo . . . then I guess it's special, huh?" he concluded redundantly.

"I guess it is," Misty agreed.

The song continued on, and with each passing second, Ash and Misty became lighter on their feet. Ash couldn't believe how much fun he was having, while Misty couldn't believe what a great dancer he was. She hadn't had much experience dancing herself, but Ash was smooth, graceful even—he didn't trip or shamble or drag his feet. She could feel that he was having a good time. They started to laugh loudly, their shrill, puerile voices declaring their dizzy enjoyment.

As the song blended into the next, neither showed any indication that they wanted to stop. Ash felt that he could dance forever with her. His legs were aching but his heart wanted to go on. He paid no heed to the mugginess of the humid night that seemed to swallow them whole, making his clothes damp with sweat. Happiness swarmed him, washing his mind of all the adverse events of the party as if they were just disposable figments of his imagination. And the familiar sound of the fresh song fed his energy all the more.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in pleasant shock.

"Hey what?" Misty asked. Wisps of hair came loose from behind her ears, spilling over her perspiration-glazed face.

Ash answered her question as he began to sing along. "_Whippoorwills call, evening is nigh, hurry to my blue heaven!_"

Misty lit up. "You know this song?"

"'Course I do! _My Blue Heaven_."

"How d'you know it?"

"Give me a break, Misty! I grew up in my mother's house. I know all these songs!" Ash gleamed, then continued. "_You'll see a smiling face, fireplace, cozy room, a little nest that nestles where the roses bloom . . ._" Breathless from the dancing, his singing was choppy and slightly off-key, but ever so free and easy, making Misty giddy in hysterics.

"Oh my God, Ash!" she laughed, smacking his shoulder.

"What? You don't like my singing?" Ash giggled.

"No, I adore it!" Misty replied. "But you're probably making poor Frank Sinatra roll in his grave!"

Ash snubbed his nose in the air. "Yeah, right! He should be honored that I'm singing it! I love this song!" He rocked his head as he caught the end of the chorus, "_Just Molly and me, and the baby makes three. We're so happy in myyy bluuue heaven!_"

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" Misty had to catch her breath from laughing. Ash grinned, delighted that he made her laugh. His heart soared with indescribable rapture and satisfaction. They danced on.

"Actually," Misty said as soon as she could breathe, "you should love this song a whole lot more now." Her voice was abstrusely sentimental.

"Why's that?"

Gazing into his eyes for a moment, she declared, "It's the first full song we've ever danced to."

It took a moment for Ash to recall that they had begun dancing in the middle of the previous song. He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hey, yeah. You're right, Misty."

"It's our song, isn't it?" she whispered, her teeth sparkling in the dim light.

Ash's smile went slack at the reality of this. _Our song._ All of sudden, an image sparked to his brain, if only for a split second: their wedding, their special dance, their song. A chill shot through him, and just as the final chorus of _My Blue Heaven_ faded out, so did his eerie yet undeniably wonderful fantasy.

"I guess it is," he whispered in reply, his smile returning. Misty nodded slowly, and their eyes locked as they shared the extraordinary feeling of what they had just established. Neither doubted that _My Blue Heaven_ would dissolve among the trivial events of the night.

"_Ooookay, folks!_" the DJ's dynamic voice purred. "We ask that you now clear the dance floor, because we've reached a very important part of this gorgeous evening. Thirteen years ago, a particular song brought two young lovebirds together, and tonight, we're all here to celebrate that love, to see and share in the happiness and joy it's brought this special couple out here."

Ash watched as his mother's face colored with slight embarrassment, dumping her head into Jay's chest. He embraced her with a laugh and kissed the top of her head as they stumbled around giddily.

"So here it is," the DJ continued, "the song that means so much to Jay and Delia, and exclusively for them." The bright spotlights from the DJ's booth dimmed idyllically, and _Stars Fell on Alabama_ began to play. The other couples scurried off the dance floor.

"Uh-oh," Ash said hurriedly. The sweet tempo of the song that held such importance in his life flooding his ears, his stomach flip-flopped. "We'd better get off!"

Misty's eyes flared excitedly, as if they were about to get caught in mischief. "Yeah, you're right!"

Ash grabbed her hand, but as they started to trot off the dance floor, a voice called out, almost as a hiss, above the silvery tune. "_Ash! Misty!_"

They halted dead in their tracks, spinning around to see Delia and Jay, already joined in dance, grinning at them. Delia's face radiated.

"Stay," she bid. Jay nodded accordingly.

The two kids gawked, not knowing what to make of the invitation. Standing out in the middle of the otherwise empty dance floor, the rest of the party witnessing their blundering confusion, suddenly made them tremble in vulnerability.

"Stay?" Ash mouthed to his mom, his face skewed in panic. Delia nodded, then rested her head on her husband's broad chest.

"I . . . I think they want us to dance, too," Misty stammered.

"_Dance?_" Ash gasped, alarm gripping him. She answered in a way he wouldn't have expected. Without warning, she grappled him in the dancing stance, leaving him with no choice but to accept. He fumbled to find himself, but quickly began to dance with her, albeit clumsily. His heart was thumping out of his chest.

"We—we shouldn't be out here!" he whispered frantically. He could hear the soft murmur of the voices surrounding them, the audience that brought a flaming blush to his cheeks. He couldn't even look.

"But your parents want us out here," Misty whispered back. "We can't leave!" Despite this, a jittery smile pried at her lips as her head retracted into her shoulders. Her eyes looked desperate to stray but remained glued on Ash's.

"I—I know, but—"

"Shhh," Misty told him. A short laugh escaped her, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance. "It's okay. Just dance!"

Dancing was the last thing Ash wanted to do, but he complied. At once, the cumbersome burden that had afflicted his feet two songs ago returned, and his entire body clamped up. Although it was his mother's request that was the reason for them being out there, it just didn't feel right. This was _their_ song—he and Misty didn't belong out there! It was supposed to be special for _them_.

It wasn't just that, however, and Ash immediately admitted to himself what was causing him the most distress.

"Misty," he mumbled under this breath. He scanned the crowd briefly. He wasn't sure if it was merely his tormenting imagination, but more eyes seemed to be directed at them rather than his parents. He could almost hear their thoughts: _Awww, look at how cute! Aren't they sweet?_ He shuddered neurotically. "Everyone's watching us . . ."

"I know," Misty squeaked, hiding her face in Ash's shoulder. She was smiling, however, the thrill of the moment making her spine tingle. "Just don't look at them. Dance!"

"I wanna get off!" Ash persisted, but Misty hushed him.

"No, we can't! Your mom wants this. You'll hurt her feelings if we get off."

"But, Misty! I—I—" His words floundered. How could he tell her straight out that he couldn't bear to be seen this way? That no matter how much he enjoyed being with her, this was crossing the line? Up to that point, he loved dancing with her; he couldn't put into words how amazing it felt to hold her, be close to her, and romp around to great music all at once. But he had one solid word for what was happening now: mortification.

Reluctantly, he stole another glance at their audience, and had the unfortunate luck to spot Brock within its midst. There was a smile on his face, but as much as Ash feared, it wasn't one of teasing. It seemed almost . . . nostalgic. At least he thought it was. He yanked his head back before he could get a chance to really scrutinize. His dread was visible.

"Ash, it's okay," Misty laughed lightly. She didn't feel entirely comfortable, either, but it looked as though Ash was ready to pass out. "Relax. This is fun!"

"It's not fun!" Ash hastily responded. "I—I mean, it _is_, but—but Misty, everyone's looking at us! They're watching us, I'm so embarrassed!" His face burned bright red. A blinding flash from a camera made him start.

Misty smiled. "Don't look at them," she repeated. "Look at me. Come on, let's enjoy this! Your mom's not doing this to embarrass us; she wants us to have fun! We're dancing to _their_ song, Ash! We should be honored!"

Honored, horrified—same difference to him. It didn't matter what song they were dancing to. Ash could feel his innards twisting.

"Look at your parents," Misty whispered, another attempt to free his mind.

"My parents," he echoed, almost like he was in a daze. Inadvertently drawing closer to Misty, he threw a side-long glance at his parents. He couldn't get over how peaceful they were, how much they were indulging in the moment. Delia still had her head pillowed against Jay's chest, her arm looped loosely around his shoulders. Her eyes shut, she could've been mistaken for being asleep if not that her lips were moving along to the words of the song. Jay was just as content, and ducked his head to whisper something in her ear. Delia giggled, opening her eyes to gaze up at him, and they exchanged a short but deeply felt kiss.

_They're having such a good time_, Ash noted. _They're so happy . . . even if everyone is watching them. _They weren't afraid or embarrassed. It was like they weren't even aware that they were the party's current spectacle. Ash smiled as he watched them kiss again, dancing languidly in spite of the fact that _Stars Fell on Alabama_ was not a particularly slow song. For the moment, he even forgot that he was dancing, too. He just loved to see them that way . . .

"Ash, sing," Misty suddenly said, wrenching him from his reverie.

"Huh?"

"Sing," she smiled. "I wanna hear you." Ash was brought back down to earth, and instantly his eyes lifted to inspect the gathering. She wanted him to _sing?_ This was getting to be _way_ too much now.

"Misty, I can't—" he began shakily.

"No, please?" she begged, her smile curving kittenishly. "It was so nice when you sung before. Please do it again."

How could he deny such a request? It was her glowing smile that captivated him, made the world around him blur. He could still feel the fond stares, but the impact her imploring eyes had on him made them suddenly negligible. Gulping, Ash achieved a wobbly grin, and began to sing, though not in the most harmonious fashion.

"_My heart beat just like a hammer, m-my arms wound around you tight, and stars fell on Alabama last night . . ._" His voice shook as he sung, but it didn't matter one way or another to Misty. The smile on her face broadened.

"Bet your heart _is_ beating like a hammer," she said.

"More like a sledgehammer, if you ask me."

"Ash," Misty sighed, "you don't have to be nervous." Her voice was flowing and gentle.

"But Misty," Ash cringed, "I can't help it. How—how can you not be nervous? All these people are watching us . . ." Just the thought of it made him look down at his feet, the only place where he didn't need to face the guests or Misty.

"I know, it's a little awkward," Misty admitted. "But aren't you getting over it by now?"

Ash didn't lift his head. He didn't want to answer her question, either, because it wouldn't be the answer she wanted. All at once, he realized he was alone out there. Always-confident Misty was back. How did she do it? How could she ever manage to adjust to a situation like this? Ash wanted to know her secret—he _needed_ to know.

"How do you do it, Misty?" He lifted his head to stare seriously in her eyes.

"What? Dance in front of all these people?"

"W-well, yeah. But not just that. Misty, how do you do it . . . you know, all the time? I mean, like now and—and whenever we kiss or we go out, y-you're never afraid of anyone seeing us, or nervous about it. You—you're always so . . . so _fearless_. You're not afraid to try new things, or—or talk about the future and things . . . things I would never dare talk about—like—like having kids and stuff . . ." He chuckled uneasily while she just grinned, hanging on his every word. He caught his breath, then added inaudibly, "I just don't know how you do it."

For a moment, she speechlessly contemplated an answer to a question she herself needed to elucidate. Finally, she gave him a crooked smile. "Actually," she said carefully, "it's not really _how_ I do it . . . it's _why_ I do it." She tried to bite back a smile. "Ash, there's a reason why I do stuff like this."

He stared at her, intrigued, and all of a sudden, she was blushing.

"It's why . . . it's why I can go on all these dates with you, and not care if you're clumsy, or that they're not entirely 'perfect.' And it's why I'm not afraid to kiss you in public, even though I won't ever until you're ready. And—and it's why I don't mind sleeping in the sitting room with those freaky pictures of your grandparents. It's why that no matter how much I was trying to convince myself I wanted to see you lose to Gary today, I wanted you to win. It's why I felt so bad for you when I saw how mad your dad was after the battle, even though I should've been glad that you got caught. It's why—why I've been traveling with you since the beginning, even though sometimes you can be the most annoying person in the world. And it's why . . . it's why I can dance with you in front of all these people and . . . and not be embarrassed."

By now, Ash was entranced, both by her lengthy recital and the way she was presenting it. It was hard for her to keep a straight face—not out of silliness, of course, but because what she was saying was overtly syrupy as much as it was serious. It was all leading up to something, Ash was sure of it, and whatever that was he was somewhat nervous of, just as Misty was clearly nervous of saying it. Forcing the hesitant word to his lips, he shivered.

"Why?"

A trembling but emotional smile lifted Misty's face, and she shrugged slightly, as if the answer was obvious. "Because I love you," she whispered.

The air in Ash's lungs was held stiffly as his body seemed to paralyze. All but his mind—it swelled, dizzy with endless thoughts coursing through it, each bearing the weight of Misty's four breathless words. Of course, she had told him other times that she loved him . . . but never like that, never more than just a casual, friendly remark. There was more in those words than there ever was before.

Ash knew he had to say something back, but the only thing his delirium allowed him was to seek clarification. "Y . . . you do?"

Her heart surging both from her passionate confession and the luster of humbled awe in his eyes, Misty's smile illuminated. "Mm-hmm," she nodded.

Ash swallowed the huge lump in his throat, and a tottering smile emerged on his face. "M-misty, I . . . well, I . . ." he started, not knowing at all how to finish. He wasn't sure if he could ever find the right words. Nothing was more powerful—and matchless—than what she had just told him.

Misty sensed his struggle, but contrary to Ash's immediate worry, it didn't disillusion her. Delicately, she reached up and covered his mouth with her hand.

"It's okay," she mollified him. "You don't have to say anything."

Ash's breathing was now steady but hard, shooting out warm and sharply against her hand. She could feel him ease under her touch. Taking her hand away, she revealed his smile, crooked with relief and benumbed delight.

"Just dance with me," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Ash accepted the closer embrace, wrapping his arm around her more tightly. He rested his head beside hers, his cheek brushing against her smooth, glossy hair and loving the feel of it. The four words continued to float wonderfully in his head, making his stomach dance elatedly, the four most amazing words she'd ever said to him.

Across the way, the two had gained another audience. Smiling fondly at what he was witnessing, Jay nudged Delia gently, and she lifted her head from his shoulder inquiringly.

"Look," he whispered, nodding in the kids' direction. Delia turned, and a doting smile came effortlessly.

"Oh my," she said, a hand covering her mouth. By then, both of the kids' eyes were shut, and they were swaying to the music gracefully and even a bit idly, completely absorbed in their own world of snug companionship.

"Oh Jay, they're so sweet," she gushed quietly.

"I know," he agreed. "Makes you kinda jealous, doesn't it?"

Delia gave him a silly face. "We're the ones who just got married!"

"I mean to be young again," Jay clarified.

That earned him another face. "Who's not young?" she demanded playfully.

"Oops! Me, babe, me," Jay laughed, leaning over to share a kiss with his wife.

"That's what I thought," she replied confidently. "Though I have to admit, this song brings back memories that feel like _ages_ ago."

"And will continue to make memories for ages to come?" Jay raised his eyes.

As sappy as he said it, Delia couldn't hope for anything more. "For ages to come, yes," she replied, and they kissed again.

Ash opened his eyes just in time to see his parents break away from their kiss. He took a deep, reveling breath, not knowing what made him feel more wonderful—dancing with Misty or seeing his parents as happy as he had ever seen them. The two combined, however, made his heart soar with rapture.

As Delia settled her head back on his shoulder, Jay turned, and his eyes found Ash's. His son flinched suddenly, smiling embarrassingly at being caught watching them so affectionately, but he never tore his gaze away. He could feel his body tingle with pride as his dad gave him a nod and a praiseworthy thumbs-up from behind Delia's back.

At that, Ash beamed luminously, and returned with a spunky thumbs-up of his own. "Thank you," he mouthed to him. His dad winked, then went back to finish the dance with Delia.

Before they knew it, the song drew to a close, and the crowd ruptured with applause. Ash and Misty broke apart slightly, a brilliant blush streaking across their noses. A few hoots and whistles rang out, but neither of them needed to search the throng to know they were originating from Brock. Ash couldn't even muster the guts to observe to the crowd, much less his catcalling friend. Instead, he subtly surveyed Misty's radiant face and her crystal eyes that, unlike his, were roaming the audience modestly. He held her hands loosely and just stared at her, gazed at her. Wondering if he could ever tell her how he felt in a way that would leave at least half the size of the impact she left on him that night . . . if that was at all possible.

But until he found a way of accomplishing that, he hung on the memory of every word that had escaped her lips, the air of her impeccable happiness, the sight of her dazzling smile and beautiful face, the declaration that flew through him over and over and over again.

_I love you, too._

* * *

Two hours later, the music stopped and the DJ packed up. The yard was still lively with chatter and laughter, which gradually tapered off for the next hour or so. By eleven-thirty, the last of the guests were on their way home, leaving the Oak property bare in the wake of a bustling day, as quiet and tranquil as it had been at sunrise. 

Everywhere but the house.

"Can I please have another glass? Or just a tiny bit more? Pleeeease?" Ash begged in between an unstoppable fit of giggles.

"No, Ash," Professor Oak answered. He was doing all he could to hold the champagne bottle out of Ash's reach. The boy was perched on his tippy-toes, a smile extending his cheeks as he imploringly held his glass out for more. "You've already had enough. Be happy I let you have that much."

Ash slumped, but the smile was far from gone. "Oh c'mon, why not? Just a little bit more? Just _a_ _splash_," he said, repeating a line his mom always used when she asked his dad to pour her more wine at dinner. With that, he executed the infamous puppy-dog look, his messy black hair falling over his glistening eyes.

"You've had enough," Professor Oak repeated pointedly. It was only after he had poured Ash a glass—and Ash had helped himself to seconds—that he learned it wasn't his first alcoholic beverage of the day. And it wasn't hard to believe that now—Ash was _flying_. "No more, not even a splash."

"Just a splash?" Ash grinned like a madman.

"_No_."

"Please?"

"No! Ash, what are you—stop it!" He held the bottle even further away as Ash tried to make a grab for it, leaning over the counter with fingers wiggling. Professor Oak just shook his head in amazement, throwing a quick glance at the other three kids and Pikachu sitting on the couch, smiling at Ash's antics.

"Is he always like this at midnight?" he asked, shocked.

Brock shrugged, laughing. "Only when he's on a caffeine or sugar rush. Or, uh, an alcohol rush."

"Which isn't normal for this time of night, believe it or not," Misty added, bouncing wide-awake Togepi on her knee. She laughed through a cringe as Ash's hand slid out from underneath him on the glossy counter surface, and he almost fell to the kitchen floor.

"Yeah, he's usually in bed by now," Brock said. "You've got him in rare form tonight, Professor."

Professor Oak rolled his eyes. "Lucky me," he said, Ash still dancing around him dizzily in hopes of securing another glass of champagne. He realized a bit too late what a mistake it was to offer the kids a final glass before bed in celebration of a wonderful day. Well, one-fourth of the kids, at least.

"Can I pleeeeeease have more?" Ash requested.

"No! No more alcohol for you tonight. You're going crazy." He quickly strode over to the refrigerator, Ash trailing, and placed the champagne atop it, then went in and pulled out a pitcher. "Here, have some fruit juice instead," he said, plunking it down on the counter.

"No, I don't want that!" Ash fussed. He tried to reach for the champagne, which resulted in the professor pushing it back further. "It's not tingly!"

"Then I'll put some club soda in it," Professor Oak said exasperatedly. He flipped his tie over his shoulder and began to rummage through the fridge while Ash continued to hop on his toes, winking craftily at his friends across the room.

Misty couldn't help but shake her head through the hilarity. "Aww, Ash, leave Professor Oak alone! Just come sit down!"

"But I'm thirsty, Misty!" he stamped his foot. He watched as Professor Oak took out the club soda and scowled. "I don't like fruit juice."

"He's lying!" Brock said.

Ash's eyes widened. "Brock!"

"He has it every morning!" He gave Ash, whose hands were now on his hips, a smirk, taking a sip of his own champagne mockingly.

Professor Oak paused, holding both beverages. "Am I pouring this for you, Ash?"

Ash wrinkled his nose, and shook his head. "Nah."

"Fine," he sighed, putting them back in the refrigerator.

"Actually, on second thought, I do want it," Ash said, receiving a disgruntled look from the professor. "What?" he grinned, shrugging innocently. A smile jerked at the corners of Professor Oak's lips.

"Well, you know what? You're not getting anything now. Come on," he bid, giving him a push towards the couch. "Go sit with your friends. How come they're not bugging me?" Misty, Brock, and Tracey arched themselves proudly at that.

"But I want more!" Ash whined, giggling again. He planted his feet firmly on the floor, leaving Professor Oak to huff in surprise at just how strong the kid was. His friends stifled their laughter, which, of course, Ash noticed, encouraging his mischief further.

"You're not getting any more!" Professor Oak insisted. The aggravation in his tone was there, but it didn't hide the amusement that helplessly arose from Ash's humorous show. He was biting back his own laughter.

"Ash, come on," Misty chuckled, patting the couch cushion beside her. Tracey scooted over a bit to make more room. "Come sit down. Let's talk about today."

Ash pouted, but skipped over and plopped down beside her, the couch springs groaning and squeaking under his weight. It was enough to make Togepi cheep in alarm and Pikachu almost topple off the back of the couch.

"_Geez_, Ash!" Brock cried as his nose was splashed with champagne. "Calm down!"

Misty swiped the glass from Ash's hand. "I think we should take this away from you," she teased.

"Hey!" Ash yelped, leaning over in attempt to reclaim it but failing. "But I'm gonna get more!"

"_No_, you_ aren't_," Professor Oak shook his head. He settled onto one of the bar stools at the counter, rubbing his temples wearily. In all honestly, he had no idea where Ash got so much energy after such a long day—alcohol aside. "You know, I should've suspected something when your mother came to me all innocently, asking if you kids could spend the night."

"She didn't know I'd be like this," Ash grinned.

"Oh, she didn't?" Professor Oak smirked, finding that hard to believe. As soon as Jay and Delia left and even before the champagne, Ash had been bouncing off the walls. "You mean, she thought she was leaving me with an exhausted kid ready to go to bed?"

"Yup! But you got me, instead! Isn't that great?"

The professor dumped his head in his hand. "She never ceases to amaze me with the tricks up her sleeve."

"Yeah, she's pretty good," Ash agreed. The giggles took him over again. "But this'll be fun! We can stay up all night and talk about Pokémon and the party and all that good stuff!"

"How about going to bed?"

Ash bobbed up and down on the couch tumultuously. "Are you kidding? I'm not tired at all! I could go all night like this!"

Professor Oak's head rolled in his palm again. "And I thought my grandchildren were bad."

"You think this is bad?" Tracey exclaimed. "You should've seen him earlier today—before dessert!"

"Oh, yeah!" Misty chimed, her hand flying to her mouth to keep her chortling in. "It was _so_ funny! He got to the sugar cubes when they first put them out. We had to lock him in the bathroom to calm him down!"

Ash burst into uproarious laughter. "That was great!"

"No, that was _ridiculous_," Brock disputed, though he was smiling. "How many did you have, anyway?"

"Ummm, eight, I think?" Ash recalled whimsically.

"Eight!" Misty remarked.

"Yeah, talk about a rush!" he sweatdropped. "If you hadn't locked me in there, who knew how crazy I'd've gone!"

"I don't even want to think about it," Misty said.

"I wouldn't imagine the bathroom to be the safest place to lock him," Professor Oak arched an amused eyebrow.

"Nah, Ash was too dumb to hurt himself in there," snickered Misty, drawing a glower from her boyfriend.

"Hey, let's just be happy that Ash decided to go on a sugar rush instead of starting another Pokémon battle in the middle of the party," Brock remarked. The others hooted while Ash hid his crimson face in his hands.

"Just when I was beginning to forget about that!" he cried, giving his hysterical friend a shove.

"Aw, Ash, you don't have to worry," Misty consoled facetiously, throwing her arms around his shoulders. "We'll always be here to remind you about it if you forget."

"Gee, thanks a lot," Ash mumbled huffily, folding his arms. He did everything he could to force his smile away.

"Oh, look at that," Professor Oak marveled jokingly. "You got him to calm down."

That breaking Ash's will, he leapt up friskily and clutched his fists. "Can I have more champagne?"

Professor Oak groaned just as the telephone began to ring, making their heads raise all at once. "I bet I know who that is," he said to Ash.

"Mom?" he squealed happily.

"Well, I can't think of anyone else calling at this time of night," Professor Oak replied as Ash dashed to the telephone.

"Mama!" he answered it excitedly.

"Wouldn't it be funny it wasn't her?" Brock mused, drawing quiet chuckles from the rest.

But Brock was wrong. As the vid-phone's screen lit up, they all witnessed a very startled Delia reel back.

"How did you know it was me?" she giggled. All ready for the night, she was dressed in her pajamas, and the remainder of her beautifully set hair was gathered up in a sloppy ponytail.

"I know this stuff," Ash replied perkily.

"Oh, really?" Delia arched an eye at him. "Well, I know things, too. Just like I happened to know you wouldn't be in bed!" Her voice lowered to a scolding tone, but good-naturedly.

Ash bounced. "I can't go to bed, Ma! I'm not tired!"

"But it's midnight! What are you doing over there, anyway?"

"Drinking champagne!" he blurted freely. In the background, the others covered their faces and moaned.

Delia was silent for a second, a skeptical grin prying at her lips. Seeing her son, positively aglow, jumping in front of the screen giddily, she put two and two together. "Ash Ketchum, are you _drunk?_" she gasped.

Ash cowered, his eyes darting around innocently. "Um, noooo. . ."

"I think you are!" she begged to differ.

"Well, maybe just a little," Ash said, pinching his index finger and thumb together. He didn't remain the least bit shamed, flashing his teeth in a tremendous smile.

"Oh, dear. What did I tell you about drinking anything else today? You're young, Ash—it takes more for adults to get drunk than a little boy like you, you know. You shouldn't've had as much as you did! I didn't even like your father giving you that beer, and now look at you! Smiling like a little goon!" she shook her head.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'm not driving anywhere tonight," Ash bubbled.

Delia couldn't hold back her laughter. "You rascal. No more tonight, you hear me? I don't want you getting sick."

"Professor Oak won't give me any more," Ash sulked. "He's mean."

"Good!" nodded Delia commendably. "But he has to be a little more mean and make you go to bed. When were you planning on doing that, mister?"

"Um, just as you called."

"Sure you were," she narrowed her eyes at him knowingly. "I mean it, Ash, I want you in bed. Dad and I are leaving at nine AM _sharp_ tomorrow morning, whether you're up or not. You don't wanna miss us now, do you?"

Ash pretended to be hurt. "I would never miss something like that!"

"Oh, just like you would never miss getting your first Pokémon?" Misty suddenly piped in.

"Oh, good one, Misty!" Brock congratulated her, the two slapping a high-five. Ash grumbled, shooting them a glare.

"Okay, Ash," Delia yawned. "Just wanted to check up on you, and I guess it was a very good idea. I'm gonna go, and I'm expecting you to go to bed _right away_. All right?"

"Sure, Mommy," he nodded, his head flopping back and forth.

"And no more alcohol!"

"No more alcohol," Ash assured, spinning around. "Right, Professor?"

"Don't worry, Delia," Professor Oak called, leaning over to give her a promising look. "He's in good hands. I'll lock my liquor cabinet tonight. You can sleep peacefully."

Delia looked satisfied. "Why, thank you! Will you make him go to bed, too?"

"I'll do it, Mrs. K!" Brock volunteered, hoisting his champagne glass.

"Me too!" Misty said.

"And me!" Tracey said.

Delia laughed. "Thanks, kids. Ash, you listen to them now."

"What!? I don't have to listen to them! They can't tell me to go to bed!" he cried indignantly.

His mother laughed. "They're older than you," was her playful reasoning.

"Yeah, Ash!" Brock pointed sternly at him. "Respect your elders!"

"Yeah!" Misty growled, adding to their fun.

"Oh yeah?" huffed Ash. "Well, respect _this!_" He pulled his eyelid down and stuck his tongue out.

"Hey!" Delia snapped though a chuckle. "That's enough of that. You need to calm down, which means _go—to—bed_. Don't go complaining to me tomorrow that you have a headache."

Ash looked confused. "Why will I have a headache?" Groans resounded from behind him.

"Let's hope you won't if you go to bed," Delia winked.

"Okay, okay, I'm going!" Ash gave in, waving his arm around.

"And calm down."

"I will!"

"Okay." Delia smiled fondly. "Good night, honey."

"Night, Mom," Ash replied, the two blowing a kiss to the screen.

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

"Nine AM!"

"Okay! Don't worry about it!"

"And no more drinking!"

"Mo-_om!_ I won't."

She blew him another kiss. "All right. Bye!"

"Bye!" Ash hung the phone up and promptly collapsed to the floor.

Misty started to laugh. "Ash! Your mom said to go to bed, but not on the floor!"

"If I knew you were going to be so easy to put up, I wouldn't have prepared a bed for you," Professor Oak said.

Ash moaned like he was croaking, rolling onto his back and sprawling out. Pikachu went over and settled in a comfortable little ball on his trainer's belly.

"Come on, Ash," Tracey prompted. "You really _should_ go to bed. You look wiped."

"Yeah, get up," Brock agreed. "It's been a long day."

Misty rose from the couch, arching her back to get the cricks out. Exhausted herself, she couldn't wait to hit the sack. "C'mon, Ash," she sang, poking him with her foot. "Let's get ready for bed before your mom calls again and finds you're still up."

"Meh. She won't call again," Ash smiled, shutting his eyes.

"I wouldn't bet on that," Brock smirked. "At least get into your pajamas in case she does so it'll look like you're making an attempt."

Yawning, Ash contemplated it. "I _would_ like to get ready . . . but I don't think I can get up."

"Ash," Brock rose from the couch, "please don't make me drag you. I'm too tired."

"Maybe if we kick him once real good, he'll get up," suggested Misty, sticking her tongue out and bringing her foot back threateningly. Ash just opened one eye and grinned, daring her to do it. Misty gave him the same grin and waved her raised foot around.

"Actually, Misty, I wouldn't go kicking him if I were you," Tracey said a bit warily. "I mean, he did have all that champagne . . ."

Brock's face paled. "Hey, yeah. And he did eat all that food earlier . . ." he added nervously, catching on to Tracey's admonition. Misty's eyes widened in realization, while Ash looked up at them, bewildered.

"Okay, Ash, I _really_ think you should get up now," Professor Oak jumped up hastily, suddenly wondering just how much the boy's young system could handle his drinking inaugural. "I don't need you damaging that new carpet I put on the stairs."

"Why would I—?" Ash's eyes became round upon his own realization. "Ohhhhh!" He sat up swiftly, and they all lurched in dread. "You guys think I'm gonna throw up?"

"Well, if you go sitting up like that, you just might!" Professor Oak warned, clutching his hair. "Now come on. If you go to bed, you'll be fine."

Tracey extended his hand down to Ash and helped hoist him to his feet. At that moment, Ash staggered, his face falling in a sickly manner.

"Oh man," he groaned, hunching over and clutching his stomach.

"Oh, no!" Misty exclaimed, panicking.

"Oh, great! Somebody get the garbage can, quick!" Professor Oak barked, and immediately, the room was helter-skelter.

But just as everyone began to scatter chaotically, Ash stood up straight, smiling broadly. "Nah, I'm just joking you guys!" he chirped.

They all halted and gawked at him, their shoulders slumping in aggravation.

"Ash!" Misty chided. "Don't scare us like that!" Ash just responded by doubling over with laughter, proving that, without a doubt, he felt fabulous. Maybe a little _too _fabulous, for that matter.

"Throwing up is nothing to joke about!" Brock grumbled.

"Yes, especially with my new carpet!" said Professor Oak. He returned from the kitchen area briskly with a plastic bowl in his hands. "Here," he said, handing it to Ash. "Keep that just in case. I don't trust you anymore."

"No, I won't throw up, I promise!" Ash managed to say as he tried to catch his breath, offering the bowl back to him.

"Easier said than done," Professor Oak sighed. "Just keep it. It won't hurt."

Ash grinned, placing the bowl over his head. "Can I wear it?" he asked excitedly.

Professor Oak, too tired to deal with any more of Ash's wild behavior, waved it away indifferently. "Sure," he yawned. "Just as long as you go to bed."

"Yeah, Ash. It's really getting late now," Misty encouraged, taking his hand.

"Awww, but Misty, I don't wanna!" Ash was whining now, dragging his feet slightly as she tried to lead him towards the stairs.

"Too bad, you have to," Brock snorted with a grin, cocking his head authoritatively.

Ash shot him another glare, which wasn't entirely playful. "Says who?"

"Tell you what, Ash," a fed-up but clever Professor Oak answered. "If you go to bed right now, first thing tomorrow morning I'll give you your new Pokédex. What do you say?"

Ash left a trail of dust behind him.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

_Hehe, I loved writing this chapter. _

_Oh, and--err, disclaimer? Do I need one? Well, just in case, I don't own the fabulous song "My Blue Heaven." Uh…I don't know who owns it, ehehe. It ain't Ash and it ain't me, that's all I know. ;; Same goes for "Stars Fell on Alabama," too, of course. And all the other unrevealed songs they were listening to at the reception. You can have fun and create your own soundtrack for that. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	20. Taking Chances

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 20

Taking Chances

The soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows was the only sound that accompanied Ash as he shuffled his way down the dark staircase. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew it was late. It seemed like years had passed since he let his head fall to the pillow, but not one bit of sleep had come upon him. Darkness surrounded him, and he searched groggily for a light switch in vain. This wasn't the first time he had spent the night at Professor Oak's, but it was the first time in a very long time, longer than he could remember.

Then again, there wasn't much functioning going on in his tired brain at the moment. But a lot of pounding was. It made him think of his mother as he guided his way painstakingly through the dark, praying he was heading in the right direction and would make it there safely and quietly. Battling the sudden headache didn't help his insomnia at all, but Ash was sure that the alcohol only contributed a little to it. The endless thoughts were what kept him up the most, preoccupying him incessantly.

Remarkably, Ash made it to the kitchen, and batted his hand around the doorframe, groping for the switch. When he found it, the room lit up torturously, burning his moist eyes. Squinting, he dragged himself over to the refrigerator, and scowled upon discovering that the only milk therein was skim.

_How's this going to get me to sleep?_ he wondered dismally, but poured himself a glass. He moved about cautiously, not wanting to wake the entire house at such an ungodly hour. Climbing onto one of the stools at the counter, he looked longingly out the window at the damp world and drank his milk. 

It was too late for him to be up. He was so tired and so very envious that everyone else was peacefully asleep. Meanwhile, he had lay in bed, tossing and turning and doing all he could to calm his raging heart and cushion his throbbing head. Sleep was impossible, though. Not with the memories of the day flashing across his closed eyes over and over.

Ash sighed, running his finger over the film of cold condensation on his glass. He didn't understand why he was having this problem. Despite all the fun that had followed, it was the adverse moments of the party that raided him. The image of Gary kept resurfacing; the scenes of the Pokémon wreaking havoc and his father's anger replayed like a horror movie. Ash had been desperate to focus on something else: the warm, secure feeling of bed, the good food and music, the vision of his parents reciting their vows . . . what Misty had told him. Even that didn't help. When he pictured her smile, it was quickly replaced with Gary's sneer. 

A gust of wind blew, beating the rain harder against the window.

__

Wow, we were lucky, Ash thought. _Now how come I can't be lucky and fall asleep?_

He was going to be dead tomorrow when he saw his parents off. He could nap afterward, he supposed, but just the mere thought of being so tired while having to get dressed and go back home made his head pulsate violently. But it wasn't just that he was dreading—it was the future. The near future, the far future, it made no difference. The clock suddenly chimed from the den; it was three. Three o'clock in the morning was certainly not the finest hour to ponder what the future held.

"Ash?"

Ash's body lurched so abruptly that he almost fell off the stool. He whirled around, and found Misty staring at him from the doorway.

"Misty . . ." he choked, shutting his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, advancing towards him carefully. "I was worried about you. I heard you get up, and I was just . . . I didn't know if you were sick or something . . ."

"No, no, I—I'm okay," Ash managed to smile as he caught his breath. "I'm all right."

Misty slid onto the stool beside him. "You don't look all right," she replied, taking in his bloodshot eyes and pale face. 

Ash frowned. "Yeah, I probably don't. I haven't slept at all."

"Oh Ash, is it from the champagne?"

"Maybe. But I—I dunno, I've just been thinking a lot. You know, since I went to bed. My mind's . . . full."

Grinning slyly, Misty cocked her head. "Oh, really? Whatcha thinkin' about?"

Ash looked down. "Gary."

Misty snickered. "_Gary?_ And here I thought you thought about _me_ when you went to bed at night!" 

Ash didn't say anything. He breathed soundly, casting another glance out the window. 

Misty groaned, but smiled wearily. "Ash. Why are you thinking about Gary?"

He shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I can't get it off my mind—what happened today. The battle." He took a deep breath. "I'm . . . afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?" Misty said, concerned curiosity in her tone.

"That it'll happen again," Ash answered after a short pause, biting his lip. 

Misty slouched, but asked with troubled interest, "Why do you think it's going to happen again?"

"Because it will," Ash mumbled softly. He absentmindedly pushed his glass back and forth, making trails of water across the counter. "I know it will, and . . . and I'm just afraid."

Misty straightened in her chair and breathed deeply. "Ash, what happened today doesn't have to happen again," she said. "It _won't_ happen. Didn't you learn anything from today? You can _control_ whether something like that happens again or not. You don't have to worry about it."

"Yeah, but I do, Misty," Ash said, still not looking at her, still in a consumed mutter. "I mean, think about what you said today. How there's no way I can shut him out of my life. You're right, I am going to meet up with him again, I am going to see him again. I know I will. I can't escape it, and that just . . . it just worries me because I don't know if I _can_ control myself. I thought I could today, and look what happened. Look at the mess I caused, and . . ." He stopped, rubbing his aching temples. "I'm just afraid it's going to happen again, is all."

Though she had taken in each word he said, she sighed and nudged his shoulder. He looked up to find her smiling soothingly.

"Ash," she whispered, "it's late. Go to bed. You can worry about this some other time."

"But it's been bothering me all night, Misty," he countered. "I can't sleep."

"But we had so much fun today! Why is this bothering you now?"

"I dunno," Ash shrugged, sloshing around the puddle of milk in the bottom of the glass. "I guess . . . I guess all the fun we had made me forget about it for a while. And . . . going to bed and lying there in the dark made me think about it all over again."

When he didn't get a response for that, he looked up again. This time he was receiving a smile _and_ narrowed eyes.

"Get over it, Ash. You're just tired. Go to bed, rest, and tomorrow morning you'll feel fine again. I promise you."

Ash stared into her eyes. Why didn't she understand? This wasn't going to leave him anytime soon, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. After all, he hadn't expected what happened that day to happen, so what made future encounters with Gary any less possible? No . . . he had to stop it—permanently. He had to find a way to make his worries go away . . .

"I think I'm trying to convince myself that I need to . . ." He hesitated, shutting his eyes tightly.

Misty tilted her head interestingly. "Convince yourself of what?"

Even saying it was difficult. But he couldn't escape the feeling that it was a necessary risk he was crazy enough—but desperate enough—to undertake.

"Convince myself that I have apologize to Gary. And . . . and stop all this."

Misty's jaw practically dropped to the counter top. "Ash, are you insane?" she hissed. "_You_ want to apologize to _him?_" She gave him a skeptical face. "Are you still drunk?"

"No," Ash shook his head. He knew it was ludicrous, but he couldn't seem to abandon the idea. "Look, Misty, I know it sounds stupid—"

"_Yeah!_" Misty grimaced.

"But I have to do it," he finished, almost direly. "Because if I don't, this whole stupid fight and rivalry is going to go on and on, and it's just going to create more trouble for me, and I know—I just _know_—it's not going to stop here. I _know_."

Misty was currently at a loss for words. She just stared at him while he swallowed, containing himself. "You know how much I can't stand Gary, but the last two times we fought . . . they've been my fault." She could tell that that was a hard thing to admit by the way he winced. "It's been my fault . . . and . . . I just want to tell him that I want to end it . . . so that we don't fight anymore . . . and I don't cause trouble anymore because of it."

"Ash . . . is this just about your dad?"

"No," Ash was quick to disagree. "I mean—that's some it, yeah, but . . . it's because I can't take it anymore, either. I don't like fighting, Misty, not even with Gary. I don't care if I ever see him again, but . . . in case I do, which I probably will . . . I don't want a repeat of what happened today. And if I talk to him about that, without picking a fight, maybe he'd listen . . . and agree . . . and I can really end this."

Misty blinked long and hard. "Ash, I . . . I really don't know . . ."

"If I should do this?" Ash filled in, his eyes raising. He looked away. "I don't know if I should, either . . ."

"So then why are you trying to make yourself think you need to?"

"Because I don't want to fight with him anymore, Misty," he replied. His eyes were sagging tiredly, and Misty could already see that bags were forming beneath them. Ash needed sleep. "I don't want to be friends with him anymore, but I don't want to fight, either."

A long lecture on how this wasn't one of his brightest ideas raring to blurt out, Misty quickly checked it and shut her mouth. Ash looked like he was in no state to endure one now. In fact, she wondered if he even cared if she had something to say, as his head drooped into his hands. The poor boy was exhausted, which meant he probably knew nothing of what he was proposing for himself.

"Are you okay?" she decided to ask instead. Besides, she was genuinely worried.

Ash wiped the wetness from the far corners of his eyes. "I have a really bad headache."

Smiling, Misty reached over and began to massage both sides of his head. Ash sat up and closed his eyes, relaxing from the relieving touch, his stomach lifting pleasantly as her nails brushed against his scalp. Then she leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Go to bed, Ash," she whispered. 

He looked up sleepily at her for a second, then nodded. Taking hold of his hand, she guided him off the stool and down the dark hallway, then upstairs. Ash closed his eyes practically the whole time she was leading him. His mind didn't want to sleep, but his eyes sure did.

Misty stopped him in front of his room. "I'll see you in the morning," she said sweetly, giving his forehead another kiss. "Try to get some sleep. We'll do something fun tomorrow to get your mind off . . . _everything_. Okay?"

Ash didn't answer, but Misty wasn't expecting him to. Giving him a final coquettish smile over her shoulder, she made her way towards her room, her hand delicately slipping out of his. Ash watched her disappear into the darkness, then staggered into his room. His body fell to the bed, his legs too tired to support him any longer, and his head sank into the pillow, the last thing he remembered before being awakened way too soon the next morning.

"The number for the hotel is right on the refrigerator, okay? And please don't call unless you _really_ need to. It'll just scare me. I don't want to hear that you don't know where the scissors are, or that you're bored, or that Pikachu learned a new attack. All right? Don't call unless it's an emergency."

"But what if I really miss you?" Ash said, jutting out his lip to give his mother a sad look.

"Aren't you the son who leaves me for months to go on a Pokémon journey?" Delia contested, putting her hands on her hips. "Or are you another son I don't know about?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I'm too tired to figure out who I am right now," he replied haggardly. Considering his eyelids felt like they weighed a ton each, the five hours of sleep he had gotten felt more like five minutes.

"Well, that's what you get for drinking," Delia justified in the definitive motherly tone.

__

No, that's what I get for drinking and being involved in a rivalry, Ash corrected in his mind, but smiled in repentant agreement outwardly. At least his headache was gone . . . though Ash suddenly doubted that it was gone for good.

"And I didn't hide the liquor, and your dad's beer is in the fridge, so I'm relying on you _not_ to touch it on your own honor. Okay?" Delia cautioned. 

"That's right," Jay added, giving him an admonishing smirk. "I counted five beers in there, and I don't want to come home to see four." He poked a finger in his son's face, pressing his nose.

Ash blinked gently. "I'm not gonna drink," he promised, still smiling. "You know I won't."

"I'll make sure of that," Brock guaranteed, receiving a grateful nod from Delia.

"Thank you, Brock." She pointed at him while turning sternly to Ash. "You listen to him now. As soon as we leave, Ash, he's in charge. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, I mean it."

Ash scoffed, folding his arms. "I don't know if I agree with that," he mumbled.

"Oh, come on, Ash!" Misty grinned. "How's that any different from when we're out traveling?"

"Yeah," Brock resolved. "If you do something dumb then, I still tell your mom about it."

That earned him a vicious glare from the younger boy. "I'm not going to do anything dumb," he swore irritatedly.

"Well, we'll see about that," Misty giggled. Togepi chirped in her arms amusingly as the insulted frown lines in Ash's face deepened.

"Awww, don't get upset, honey," his mom cooed, shaking the brim of his hat. "I know you won't do anything dumb."

"Of course I won't," Ash straightened proudly.

"Just as long as you don't call and scare the living daylights out of me. I'll call you a few times, all right? We're only going to be gone for four days, so you can handle it. And please, I want to come home to find the house in one piece, okay, sweetie? Which means clean up after yourself or don't make the mess in the first place." 

She then proceeded to read off the regulations, counting them on her fingers. "Lock the doors the night, don't _answer _the door at night. You can leave the house, but please don't go far; no day-journeys, don't go into the woods. You can go to Professor Oak's house, and you can go to town if you want, but not late in the day—I want you home before dark, okay? Um . . . don't forget to turn the oven off. You don't have to do laundry unless you really want to, but I want to find the clothes in the hamper, _not_ on your floor. And . . . I don't know, anything else, Jay?"

Jay shrugged. "Don't kill each other," he laughed.

"Yes, I don't want to get a call from the emergency room, either," Delia said.

"It's all right, Ma, we'll be fine," Ash assured, trying his best not to roll his eyes at the long list of rules. No matter how relaxed his mother was acting over leaving the house to them for the next four days, he knew her innards were twisting with worry.

"I know you will," she replied, gathering him in her arms. "I just worry, dear. This is really the first time I've left you all alone in the house for so many days."

"It's okay, we won't burn it down," Ash giggled, wrapping his arms around her in a firm hug. He closed his eyes as he rested his head against her chest, and for the moment, felt like he could fall asleep right there. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Oh, I'm going to miss you, too, baby," she bubbled wistfully, bending down to kiss the top of his head. "Promise me you'll be good?"

Ash narrowed his eyes deviously. "Sure . . . but promises were made to be broken."

Delia matched his sly expression. "Sure, Ash. I'm gonna forget you said that, okay?" Her son laughed, scratching the back of his head.

"You laugh, kiddo," Jay remarked. "But we'll hear all we need to know from this guy over here." He pointed at Brock. "So you better watch out."

Ash turned to face his father, folding his arms again cockily. "Not if I bribe him, you won't," he joked.

"Uh-huh," Jay nodded, smacking Ash's hat down over his face. "Keep talking, squirt. We'll see where your big mouth gets you this week. If I were you, I'd be scared of Brock. You're not the only one doing some bribing around here."

"That's right, Ash," Brock sneered playfully. "_Fear_ me." Ash promptly stuck his tongue out at him.

"All right," Delia exhaled happily. "I think we covered everything. You kids have any questions before we leave?"

Brock and Misty both shook their heads, which seemed to conclude the redundant and almost aggravating inspection of responsibility, but suddenly Ash felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Jay's.

"Uh, actually, I just wanna talk to Ash for a moment before we leave, okay?" he said with a smile. "Come outside with me?" he beckoned Ash, patting his shoulder and guiding him forward.

"Um, okay," Ash replied, feeling a bit confused and uneasy as he followed his father out the front door. _Why is he bringing me outside?_ he wondered. What could Jay possibly say that he didn't want the rest of the group to hear? 

Though it was fairly hazy, Ash had to squint his eyes from the sun's glare as he stared up quizzically at Jay's face. His dad put his hands on his hips as he looked down the road, then down at Ash, who he smiled at. The smile was friendly, but a touch of nervousness was mixed in, also.

"Um, Ash, look . . ." He lingered, trying to figure out what to say, which intrigued Ash tensely all the more. Finally, Jay cleared his throat. "Your mother—well, she wasn't going to mention this in there, but I know she has it on her mind . . . Um . . . she's kinda nervous. You know . . . about—about leaving you and Misty alone like this for the next few days . . ."

Ash quickly caught on and interjected. "Dad, we'll be fine." He was glad that it was only this, something he could ensure. "You know me and Misty don't do that kind of stuff."

"I know, I know," Jay nodded rapidly, grinning both out of relief and a bit of embarrassment. "I know you don't do anything like that, I trust you. It's just your mom's worried, and I, you know, wanted to make sure we have all this covered . . ."

By now, Ash was smiling confidently. "It's all covered. You don't have to worry about us. Besides, Brock's here. He wouldn't let us do anything even if we tried."

Jay laughed. "I figured that. But Ash, just so we're on the same page here—that means little things, too, things you might not think are wrong. I don't want you to think that you can roll Misty's bed back into your room for the nights we're gone, or something like that. You _know _Mom'll find out about it someway or another, and it's not going to be pretty if she does." He winced for dramatic effect, which his boy mimicked.

"I wasn't planning on it," Ash told him truthfully. "And I don't think Misty's planning on it, either. She really likes sleeping in the sitting room."

Jay huffed in surprise. "She _does?_ Man, I don't know how anybody can sleep in that room with your mother's demented ancestors!" Ash broke out into laughter. "All I know is, I'm sure as hell glad they're not my grandparents!"

"Mi—misty likes them, too," Ash said between giggles. "She says—she says you get used to them after a while."

"Look, I've been living with those things for thirteen years now," Jay explained, "and I'm still not used to them. I say they go back in the attic! But don't tell Mom that."

Ash, heaving from all the laughing, gave his father a crafty look. "Sure. Just as long as you don't tell Mom all the stuff me an' Misty are going to be up to."

Overcome completely with his own hysterics, Jay slapped his forehead. "Ashton, do we have to have this discussion _again?_" he asked with facetious exasperation.

"Nah," Ash shrugged. "Don't worry, Dad, anything you and Mom will be doing on your honeymoon Misty and I won't do," he winked, shocking his dad into gaping in disbelief at him.

"You smart-mouth little punk!" he guffawed, grabbing his son's chin and shaking it. "I gotta watch out for you. You know too much!"

"Believe me, I don't know that much," Ash admitted calmly. "I'm just teasing ya."

Nodding, Jay took a deep breath from all the laughter. Patting Ash's cheek, he gazed down the street again, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. A brief moment of silence followed, the only sound being the gentle, continual hum of crickets. Ash relaxed happily, leaning against the door and wallowing in the wonderful feel of the warm day. He closed his tired eyes and yawned, increasing his longing for an afternoon nap.

"Actually, kid," Jay suddenly said, making Ash open his eyes lazily. His father was still looking off into the distance. "There's something I . . . I also want to make sure of before we leave."

"What's that?" Ash stood up and away from the door.

Jay pursed his lips. "Well, I . . . uh, I—I'm gonna say it straight out. If, by any chance, you happen to . . . you know, run into Gary, or you see him or something, please just . . . don't do something that—don't get yourself into a mess, how 'bout that?"

Ash felt a tightening in his stomach. _How does he know?_ was the first thought that sprang to his head, but he quickly realized that that was impossible. The only person who knew about his plans at attemptable reconciliation with Gary was Misty, and he was positive she hadn't conversed with his father.

"I—I won't," Ash quickly vowed, hoping he hadn't just spoken a lie. He looked apprehensively at his feet.

"I know you won't," Jay responded, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of that. He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, after yesterday, why would ya, right?"

__

You'd be surprised, Ash thought.

"I . . . I just wanted to make sure because . . . well, because I'm looking out for you. I don't wanna see you in another mess like that, kiddo."

Ash nodded, still looking down. All of sudden, he felt Jay approach and a large, warm hand caress the side of his head. He glanced up to find his dad smiling fondly at him.

"'Kay, Ash? Just promise me . . . promise me I'm not going to come home to hear something I won't like."

Ash's heart began to beat a little faster. _I hope you don't, either_, he thought. For a second, he almost prayed that Jay would stress it just a bit more. Maybe then it would help him make the important decision that his conscience was battling with. 

"I don't want to be in a mess like that again, either," Ash replied, and quite candidly. _And I really, really hope I won't be._

"All right," Jay ended softly, bringing him into a hug. Ash's hat tilting upwards as he smothered his face into his father's tee-shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of his after-shave.

"I love you, buddy." Jay rubbed Ash's back robustly, and kissed the top of his head. "Don't miss your old man too much now."

Ash chuckled. "I'll try not to. I love you, too, Daddy."

"When I get back, we can battle, okay?"

"Can we go looking for Pokémon to catch, too?" Ash yapped excitedly.

"You bet!" his father beamed.

Just then, the front door swung open, and Ash lifted his head to see his mother smiling at the scene from the threshold. 

"Are you two done out here, or do I have to rearrange my schedule around this?" she asked. Misty and Brock appeared behind her, and inched their way past to come outside. Pikachu scurried out into the sunshine as well.

"I think we're done," Jay replied. He looked down at Ash to verify. "Right?"

Giving him a cheeky grin, Ash grappled his dad in another big bear hug. "Take me with you?" he begged, causing his parents to laugh.

"Aw, I wish I could, sweetheart," Delia said, massaging his shoulders affectionately. "But I need a man to stay behind and look after the house now, don't I?"

"Yeah," Jay smirked. "Good thing we have Brock, huh?" 

Ash instantly gave him a disgruntled look. "Don't _I_ feel under-privileged."

"Oooh, a big word!" Misty gibed. She shoved Ash lightly, who swayed comically as if he were to fall over. "You're right, I don't think we're giving you enough credit."

"Exactly," commented Ash, insulted. "_Besides_, I know big words."

"Of course you do, honey," Delia shook her head at her boy's silliness. She sighed happily. "Well, I think we should hit the road. What do you say, hon?"

Jay shrugged. "Whenever you're ready," he smiled. The suitcases were already packed away in the car, the good-byes being the last business to attend to.

Which, as much as having the whole house to themselves for four whole days sounded great, Ash wasn't entirely looking forward to. It was certainly a change from the norm: never was _he_ the one seeing people off. He didn't want his parents to leave, but he wanted them to have the best time they could possibly have. He wasn't prepared to damper that in any way. Instead, he put on a cheerful smile as Delia delivered a kiss to his cheek.

"Be safe and be good . . ." she sang, then brought her lips to his ear to whisper, "and don't forget to change everyday."

"_Mama_," Ash blushed. "What kind of slob do you take me for?" Delia grinned and pinched his ear lovingly before turning to Misty and Brock.

"Bye, kids," she said, giving them each a kiss. "Look after my little boy, and make sure he does all his chores!"

"_Good-bye_, Mom," Ash grumbled, shooing her away.

"Have fun!" Brock called as Delia and Jay made their way down the walk towards the car.

"If you see my sisters, stick your tongue out at them for me!" Misty cried in playful malevolence.

"Oh, I'll be sure to," Delia pledged with a laugh, winking.

The three kids waved the car away until it disappeared down the road. Ash's eyes lingered a bit longer, wishing their trip nothing but delight thereafter. He hoped the same for himself, his plan for ending his troubles with Gary more than just an idea now, despite the conversation with his father. In fact, not only was he considering it fully, but he was even anxious to get it done as soon as possible. If only his parents—and Misty and Brock—knew the risky duty he was assigning himself. 

The yard became quiet again, and they stood on the stoop admiring the bright scenery in contentment. It was Misty who finally broke the silence, her gleeful voice speaking the obvious but stirring them nonetheless.

"I can't believe we have the whole house to ourselves for the next four days!"

"Yeah, it's going to be fun," Brock agreed lively. "Wonder what we can do?"

"Ooh, I don't know," replied Misty briskly, letting antsy Togepi down to roam around the front yard.

"Clean up," Ash suddenly said, wrenching his friends' heads in his direction skeptically.

"What did you say?" Misty exclaimed with a laugh.

He turned to them matter-of-factly. "We're gonna clean," he answered with a small smile. "The house, I mean. We're gonna make sure this place is spotless by the time my folks come home."

For a moment, there was a hush as Misty and Brock stared at their young friend like he had two heads.

"Well_, of course_ it'll be," Brock finally said, giving a short chuckle. "I'm way ahead of you on that, Ash."

"What do you think we were gonna do? Have trash lying around when they come home?" Misty snickered.

Ash laughed and waved his hands around. "No, guys, you don't know what I mean!" His voice became serious as much as it was humored. "I mean we're gonna clean this place from top to bottom! We're gonna wash the floors and the windows and the bathroom, and we're gonna vacuum, and dust, and we're gonna do all the laundry and stuff. When Mom and Dad come home, the place is going to be _perfect_. They're not going to have one thing to complain about or do, 'cause we're going to do _everything_." 

He stopped, smiling at them with both enthusiasm and expectancy. The goal to make the house immaculate for his parents was a hasty one, but secure. Though it wasn't his cup of tea—and neither seeing Gary again, but he tried not to think about it—Ash was all for it. Just the thought of how pleased it would make Delia and Jay made him eager. But all he received, once again, were quiet stares.

"Who are you?" Misty narrowed her eyes.

Ash slumped, his smile weakening. "Me, Misty. Come on."

"Okay," she gave in. "But what's the matter with you? Are you feeling okay?" She turned to Brock. "I don't think he got enough sleep last night."

Running a hand through his sweaty hair beneath his cap, Ash sighed. "I got plenty of sleep last night—well, actually no, I didn't, but that's not why I want to do this."

"Ash, you _never_ want to clean," Misty pointed out. "Your room is a good example."

Ash smiled proudly. "Well, that's gonna be cleaned, too! Mom's going to be _so_ happy when she comes home and sees the place. It'll be great!"

"You're kidding, Ash," Brock said, cocking an eye.

"No, I'm not, I'm serious!" he cried, hopping around on his feet. For someone so tired, he was quite happily animated. "I really, _really_ want to do this. I really wanna clean the house for them. Brock, I thought you'd be totally into this!"

"Oh, I am, I am!" Brock replied. "I have absolutely no problem doing some cleaning, you know me. It's just . . . this isn't you _at all_."

"Yeah, Ash, what's up with you?" Misty wondered. "Seriously, are you sick or something?"

The stickiness became too much, and Ash took his hat off to fan himself with it. "I'm not sick," he said calmly. "I just have a lot to make up to my parents. So I wanna do this."

"What do you mean, make up?" Brock asked. "For what?"

"You know," Ash shrugged, as if it was evident and they were simply playing ignorant. "All that crap I've been doing lately. I wanna show them I can be mature and take care of the house. And I haven't really been doing a lotta chores lately either, so this'll make up for it. _And_ for getting drunk, too; forgot about that," he grinned skittishly.

"But Ash, your mom didn't really care about that," Brock brought up, laughing.

Ash tipped his head. "Eh, she didn't show it, but I know she's upset about it. So are you with me or not on this?" he said, getting back to the subject at hand.

"Sure, I'm with you," replied Misty, knowing it was the least she could do for Ash's parents after being put up so long. She laughed. "But it's just not you! The Ash I know would've already been raiding the snack cabinet!" 

Ash laughed, too. "Well, I'll do that, too, but I'll make sure I vacuum the crumbs if there are any."

"Wow. At least now I don't have to put 'Ash didn't do his chores' on the list," joked Brock. 

Ash wrinkled his nose at him. "What list? You mean you're actually going to make a list of the things I do wrong to give to my parents?"

Brock shrugged tauntingly. "I _could_."

"Well, don't even bother, Brock," Ash said unwaveringly. "You won't have anything to put on it. Because all I'm gonna do this week is clean up and have fun." 

__

And become rivalry-free, he added to himself, speculating what they would say when they'd find out his daring plan. Maybe he should take back the part about Brock not starting a list, he wondered. Because if it didn't go right, the outcome would take up slots one through ten on it.

"Okay," Brock said, "I believe you. But I'm watching you, too." That got Misty giggling, but Ash just looked him in the eye, an inexpressive smile on his face. He knew it was all in jest.

"So?" Misty said after a quiet pause. "What do you guys want to do?"

Ash stopped breathing, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. Still, his own doubts kept him from saying a thing, wondering if now was really the right time. After all, it was barely even noon—he hadn't eaten lunch, and his headache was unfortunately returning.

__

I shouldn't put it off, though, he thought, looking to the ground as if his friends could see what he was thinking through his pensive eyes. _If I wait too long, he might leave . . . I'd lose my chance._

He couldn't do that; he had no idea how long Gary would be sticking around before continuing his journey. He'd been home even longer than Ash had, which meant he was bound to leave sooner or later. And besides, he figured, it was best to do it and get it over with. Whatever the result might be.

"I dunno," Brock answered Misty. "Whatever Ash wants to do, I suppose."

This got Ash's heart pumping furiously. _Yeah, I'm sure you really want to do what I want to_, he almost laughed out loud. 

"What do you want to do, Ash?" Misty yawned, looking down as she brushed some lint off her tank top.

__

Well, you have to do it sometime, Ash prompting himself. _Might as well make that time now._

"I, uh," he started, unwittingly making his voice sound contemplative. He propped his hands on his hips and looked down the road, towards Gary's house. Shutting his eyes tightly as he felt his heart lurch, he continued, "I think I'm going to go to Gary's house."

The responding silence made him nervously turn around. There were Brock and Misty, staring at him incredulously. His second head must have grown back.

"What!?" Brock finally gasped.

"Why are you going to Gary's house?" Misty practically shrieked.

Ash looked at her and sighed, preparing for the onslaught of disapproval. "Don't you remember what I was telling you about last night?"

"What did you tell her?" Brock wanted to know hastily.

Misty rolled her eyes. "Oh, something _stupid_ about wanting to make up with Gary," she replied hotly.

"Not wanting to make up with him," Ash corrected. "Wanting to apologize to him and end any kind of contact with him—forever."

"Ash, that is just ridiculous!" she didn't hesitate in belting out. "When you said that last night, I thought it was because you were half-asleep! Don't tell me you're actually serious about this!"

"I don't know if I am completely," admitted Ash, blinking. "But I want to do it; I can't get it off my mind."

"So you're gonna go now," Brock assumed. An absurd assumption, at that.

"I might as well."

Misty was aghast. "Ash, your parents haven't even been gone five minutes!"

"It doesn't matter how long they've been gone!" Ash said, shrugging widely. "Even if they were home, I'd still do it."

"Oh, you would _not_," she nearly screamed at him. 

Ash reeled back slightly. He'd expected her to object firmly, but not viciously.

She approached him imperiously. "Don't tell me that after what happened at the reception, you'd go walking up to Gary's house with your parents home! Give me a break!"

"Actually, I would!" Ash retorted. He found himself backing up as Misty bore down on him, despite his argument. "Because I want to show 'em that I'm mature enough to do something like this! That I can be around Gary without fighting with him!"

"But Ash, that's the thing! You _can't!_" she contradicted. "You said yourself that you couldn't control yourself yesterday. So what makes today any different!?"

Ash bit his lip hard, his breathing heavy. _Oh, maybe because I realized what a stupid ass I am, thanks to you and Dad_, he wanted to snap at her. He didn't, though; he didn't want to fight. That was exactly what Misty was trying to do. For good cause, of course, but regardless, he needed support in this, not antagonism.

Instead, he replied pointedly, "It's called learning from my mistakes."

"No, I think you're wrong," Misty disputed. "Because if you really learned something yesterday, you wouldn't even _think _of going near Gary today."

"Yeah," Brock shook his head. Although he didn't want to doubt Ash's determination to fix his problems, this didn't sound too wise to him. "Ash, I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Give it some time," Misty instructed, her tone now one of guidance rather than demand. "If you stay away, you won't fight."

__

They don't understand, Ash thought fretfully. "Yeah, but I want to make sure there're no fights in the future, either, Misty. I can end this—_maturely_. I know I can. That's what I want to do. I want to be able to go up to Gary, tell him I don't want to fight anymore, and we _won't_ fight anymore. Because we won't even _know_ each other."

Misty stared at him. "And you really think you can do that?"

"Without fighting?" Brock added.

"Without fighting," he repeated. He cocked his head at that, signifying his sturdy resolve.

"There you have it," Misty announced, turning to Brock. "Dumb thing number one."

Brock nodded as if to make a mental note. 

"Guys," Ash stamped his foot, which yanked Misty's attention back to him. 

"No, let me get this straight," she said, still trying to come to grips with it. "You want to walk up to Gary's house, ring his bell, and tell him that you don't want anything to do with him anymore."

"Yup," Ash nodded. "Exactly."

"Without fighting?"

"Yes, without fighting. Without yelling, fighting, battling, _whatever_."

Misty and Brock exchanged a look, sustaining their shared skepticism. Their feelings were no secret to Ash. He knew what they were expecting: that he would confront Gary with the supposed will to keep things clean, when in reality he had every impulse to issue another vicious brawl, concluding in, once again, the augmentation of the problem rather than the solution.

But Ash wasn't going to let that happen. Not now. Not after what happened the day before. Scenes of the battle flashed to his mind again, scenes of him cowering against the wall as his furious father loomed over. And then Jay's words, dripping with disgrace: _"If you can't be mature and put your stubborn differences aside for one day, Ash, then there's something really wrong here."_ There was something wrong, Ash acknowledged. And he was going to fix it, no matter what Misty and Brock thought.

"No," Misty said, waving her hands around. "I don't trust you. If you do this, I'm coming with you."

"Me, too," Brock said.

"Guys, no," Ash moaned. "I'm gonna do this on my own. I have to."

"But then no one can stop you if you do something stupid," Brock said, brutally frank.

His muscles tensing, Ash was a step away from exploding. He couldn't believe how much his friends were against him.

"I'm not going to do something stupid!" he exclaimed. "Come on, guys! You think I'm gonna go over there and repeat what happened yesterday? After I embarrassed myself in front of half the party, after my dad almost killed me for it? You think I want that to happen again!?"

"You don't want that to happen again," Misty said, "but you don't realize that what you're doing could very well lead to that."

"But it _won't_ lead to that," Ash grumbled, glowering at her. "There won't _be_ any fighting, Misty! Why can't you trust me on that?"

"Ash, listen to me," she grumbled right back, her teeth grit impatiently. "Yesterday I tried to talk you out of battling with Gary, but you didn't listen to me. No, you just went and did what you thought was best, and look where it got you. Don't you think it'd be smart if you listened to me now? That maybe—just perhaps—_I know what I'm talking about?_"

At that, her voice peaked piercingly, and Brock quickly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Misty, leave it alone," he ordered. "If he wants to go and do it, then let him."

Both Ash and Misty were shocked at this interruption, but for different reasons. Ash wasn't entirely pleased with Brock's opinion, however, as he could hear the permission wasn't exactly granted with blessing.

And was he ever right. "If he wants to go, and cause another big scene with Gary, let him," Brock went on. "It's his funeral, not ours."

Misty's grim smirk seemed to agree to this, but Ash wasn't going to accept that kind of attitude.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"You know exactly what I mean," Brock replied sharply. 

And it was true; Ash did know what he meant. If his confrontation with Gary didn't go smoothly—in fact, ended disastrously—Misty and Brock's wrath now would only be the preview of what was to come when his parents returned.

"For the last time, I'm not going to fight with Gary!" he proclaimed, ignoring the warning. "Here, look, look!" He furiously grabbed at his belt, snatching each and every Pokéball off of it. Shoving them at Brock and Misty, they had no choice but to accept them clumsily. "Here're my Pokémon. I won't bring them, okay!? That's all of them. And Pikachu will stay here, too."

"Pika_chu!_" Pikachu complained, always hating to be left behind, but Ash quickly shot him a firm glare.

"No, you're staying, Pikachu. I'm not bringing you. I'm doing this alone, and you're all gonna be surprised. You'll see."

Misty looked down at the Pokéballs in her hands, then up at him. "Well, how do I know you're not going to start a fist-fight with him? Huh?"

For the first time since the start of the debate, Ash smiled. "Because I've _been_ in fist-fights with him before, Misty. When we were kids. He almost broke my nose once. You think I want that to happen again?" He laughed. "Besides, what will I tell my folks if I have a black eye or a broken nose when they come home? They'll know something happened then."

To his surprise, Brock laughed. "Well, we could always say you didn't clean up after yourself, and I finally had it with you."

While he and Misty chortled at that, Ash rolled his eyes. "Hardy har har," he droned.

"Oh, Ash," Misty came stumbling up to him, her giggles dying down affably. She cradled the Pokéballs against her stomach with one hand as she shook his shoulder with the other. "Come on, please don't do this. It's going to be all right, you know it will be. Let's have lunch or go train our Pokémon or something instead. Okay?"

"Yeah, I'll make something good," Brock offered. He suddenly felt confident that plugging the concept of food would impel Ash to change his mind. "How 'bout barbecued hamburgers?"

Misty jumped around and thrust her arm in the air. "Ooh, I vote for those!"

Ash's mouth watered at the mention of it, but it didn't erase the project from his mind. "That sounds good, Brock," he said. "You can make them while I go talk to Gary." With that, he turned to leave.

"Ash!" Misty whined. "No, don't go, _please!_"

"You should think about this," Brock recommended severely.

But Ash was already sauntering down the walkway. He paused outside the fence, and looked back. His friends stood motionlessly on the porch; Misty giving him a pained look, while Brock's face seemed to say: _"Fine. Do what you want, but you'll be sorry."_ Pikachu was shifting around on his feet, itching to run to Ash's side, but stayed put.

"I'll be back soon," he bid farewell. He gave a short wave and a reassuring smile, directed especially at Misty. "Everything'll be fine. Don't worry." His voice lowered inadvertently, as he needed the optimistic message to ease his own jittery nerves. Unbeknownst to his friends, he was breaking into a sweat.

Not waiting for Misty or Brock's good-byes, he started down the road. The sun was now beginning to break through the thin layer of haze, burning down on the back of his neck. He watched his feet as he walked, not needing to lift his head to know where he was going. Having made this walk more times then he could count, it was almost like second nature. It was remarkable he didn't know the exact number of steps it took to get there, though he never really thought to do such a thing; most of the time, he had sprinted there, not able to wait another second to go exploring or waste the day at his best friend's house.

In fact, with the walk came a flood of memories, but Ash tried desperately to rid his head of them. He didn't need any of those, whether they were nice or not. He had to keep his mind at task, to remember what he was making this trip for: to do away with an acquaintance gone wrong—forever. One he was definitely better off without. No longer would he have to worry about upholding his performance according to some stupid rivalry, to try to prove himself in such a foolish way. Never again would he have to deal with the type of clashes that had befallen him lately, seemed to haunt him.

Still, as much as he was set on accomplishing this, he felt a pang of sadness in his heart. It was enough to sting his eyes with tears. He never wanted it to be this way. After all the years that he had spent with Gary, who would have known he'd be on his way there now, intent on telling his former friend off once and for all? Before he'd met Misty and Brock, Gary was the only friend who knew everything about him, because Ash shared everything with him. They'd known each other since Ash was a baby, only to become inseparable years later, only to lead to this moment. How could something braced with such fond memories turn out so wrong? It left Ash hanging in disbelief as, like he had estimated, he stopped and lifted his eyes to behold Gary's home before him, quiet and bright in the morning sun.

Something then and there told him to turn back. But he didn't. He shut his eyes as he felt his stomach leap to his throat. Perhaps he should have listened to his friends. Because at that moment, as he forced his legs to move and he began the fateful walk up the path leading to Gary's front door, even he didn't know what was about to happen. 

But there was time to retreat—until he rang the doorbell, that was. His finger lingered over the lit button, knowing each euphonic chime that would resound upon pressing it. In that moment, he recalled another memory. He was seven, Gary was eight. Of course, he would only be eight for two months before Ash turned the same age, but he was always sure to emphasize his added seniority as the ultimate tease until then. The day was warm but windy, and they were huddled over Gary's father, watching him install the new doorbell with rapt interest. Ash could remember how amazed he was to see it done. His family had never put in a new doorbell; they had the same old one they always had. It was only after Gary was allowed to test the button for the first time and Ash heard the new chimes, like heavenly music compared to his bell's dull dongs, that he was struck with envy. They spent the rest of the afternoon rushing to the front door every now and then to ring it, then run away, resulting in Gary's mother coming to the door, laughing and tsk-tsking at their mischief. Later, Ash had bugged his mother to get a new doorbell for their home all during dinner, gushing about how great Gary's was. She insisted theirs was perfectly fine, but Ash had not let up about it for weeks to follow. It resulted in the doorbell they had now, not exactly Gary's, but new and special all the same.

Standing there frozen as a statue, his finger poised over the button, Ash's face contorted as he struggled to keep his tears in check. The doorbell memory was only a fragment of the others that teemed in his mind. The sight of the house alone was torture. The front door reminded him of Halloween—Gary's house was the first he'd always hit. From his spot on the stoop, he could just see into the living room past the sheer drapes, where he and his family had spent every other New Year's Eve, watching the ball drop. The alternating years were spent at his house, but no matter where it was, Ash and Gary had to snap their fingers in front of each other's faces constantly to keep awake.

Ash quickly shook his head. _Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking!_ he chanted distressfully to himself. But it was impossible to stop thinking. He had never done anything like this before . . . and he wondered if he even should—_would_—do it now. If he was emotionally capable of it.

__

I mean, I do want to do this . . . don't I? There was no way to go back and change anything he would do, annul this meeting if it were to occur. Ash's mind was spinning with memories, doubts, and desires, all commingled together. He didn't know what he wanted at that exact moment, other than one of Brock's hamburgers and a nap. Neither was going to help him in this situation, sadly.

But then Ash strained to recall all the recent events with Gary—the sleepover; the battle; the heartless, thoughtless words he'd spoken about his father. All the grief that came with an arduous rivalry. Were all those years worth it now, what might take place in the future?

__

Am I sad about losing Gary . . . or just my childhood? Ash wondered, wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve. Dealing with such an abashing decision was not fair.

Yet he didn't give himself any more time to dwell over his current quandary. Pursing his lips, he paused before pressing the doorbell.

TO BE CONTINUED…

__

Actually, will it be the conclusion? I mean, I can go on for chapters and chapters I suppose—hehe, nah, I won't do that. ~_^ BUT it isn't exactly the end. I know a lot of you thought this chapter was the last, but…well, I pulled a fast one on ya. :P There will be one final chapter after this, then the epilogue…though you can kind of say the epilogue is like a little one-shot all its own. Or you could just say BH has two more chapters to go, whichever you prefer. ^^ I'm kinda sad it's coming to an end, because when I say the end, I truly do mean **the end**. But don't worry, it's going to go out with a bang! Or at least I hope so. ^_^;; Who knows when the next chapters will come, as school starts next month, but that normally gets me going more than it does stall me. And as much as I hate to end this trilogy, since I've had so much fun writing it, I'm eager to get to that bang, you know? ^_^

And a note to **moezy-chan**: I got your wonderful review. ^__^ Ff.net just screwed up again and it didn't show up, but I have it saved in my inbox. Thank you so much, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Till next time!


	21. Friend or Foe

**Blue Heaven**

_By Spruceton Spook_

Part 21

Friend or Foe

As soon as Ash heard the bell chimes resound throughout the house, muffled yet so familiar from behind the closed door, his stomach clenched. He yanked his finger away from the button as if it had just snapped at him.

_What did I do?_ he thought frantically. _Should I've done that?_

Stricken with sudden panic, he wanted to run for it. He realized a little too late that he had no idea what to do once that door opened before him. Who _would_ answer it? He found himself wishing it was anyone but Gary. If it was one of his parents or May, he could smile and say hi and be all friendly; he didn't know how he would react if the door swung open and Gary was there. His own impending actions were a mystery to him.

But as much as he was compelled to split, he stood his ground. The world around him became still. He heard no sounds coming from the house, but he knew there was someone home; a car was in the driveway. A silver minivan—Gary's mother's car. That didn't mean Gary was home, though. Ash hoped he wasn't.

_Why did I bother doing this then?_ Ash questioned his own feelings. He wasn't prepared; he was a nervous wreck. The only thing controlling him now were his high hopes of accomplishing something from this impromptu meeting. He had no course of dialogue lined up, no idea of how he was even going to approach this. But worst of all, he didn't know how he was going to conduct himself. And that scared him.

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he heard the front door being unlocked.

_Oh God_, he thought, his eyes wide as he inadvertently backed away. _What am I going to do? No, no, I don't want to do this! No, no, no!_

He didn't have much a choice, however, as Gary's mother's face swiftly appeared behind the screen door, lighting up at the sight of Ash. This eased the boy's tense muscles just a bit, but he still stood frozen stiff, an awkward smile perking at the corners of his mouth.

"Hi, Ash!" Mrs. Oak greeted, her tone that of happy surprise.

"Hi," he squeaked.

"How are you? What's going on?" she asked. Ash stepped aside as she opened the door and held it for him invitingly. "Come in."

Ash declined politely with a wave of his hand. "N-no, that's okay. I—I'm just, um . . ."

"Oh, stop it!" insisted Mrs. Oak, still with her tremendous smile. "I don't see you enough lately. I don't even remember the last time I opened the door to you! Come in!"

Although her warm welcome was tempting, Ash shook his head. "No, really, I'm good, thanks. I just came over a second to—"

"See Gary?" She lifted her eyebrows knowingly, letting the door close gently.

See Gary. The words ricocheted incredulously through Ash's head. He couldn't believe the nod he gave in response.

"Is he home?" he asked, wondering why he did.

"Oh, sure," Mrs. Oak chuckled. "Wow. I'm sorry, it's just it's been so long since I heard you say that, Ash. God, you kids grew up too fast." Ash couldn't help but laugh a little along with her. He was as shocked as she was, but in no way did their nerves compare. "He's upstairs. You're more than welcome to come in and go get him," she attempted to lure him in again.

The image of him waltzing into Gary's bedroom practically made Ash shudder. He couldn't picture doing anything more outrageous at the moment.

"No, it's okay, I'll wait out here for him. If that's okay with you," he added quickly, rocking back and forth from the heel to the toes of his feet.

"That's fine," she said. "I'm actually surprised to see you here today. Looked like you two were having one of your classic little spats yesterday."

Ash was taken slight aback. "O-oh," was all he could respond to that. He felt himself flush as he looked uncomfortably off to the side. He didn't expect this to come up, but now that it had it was no surprise. Only a _spat_ was the last thing he considered what happened the day before, and it certainly wasn't _little_.

Fortunately, Mrs. Oak was still smiling. "Made quite a bit of a mess. Just as crazy as your parents' first wedding!" she laughed.

Ash giggled nervously, startled to hear amusement in her tone where there should have been disapproval. It obviously must not have appalled her as much as he had assumed it would. Then again, Mrs. Oak, oddly, never did get burned up about certain things his own parents did.

"I'll go get Gary for you. Are your mom and dad still home? Did they leave for their trip?"

"Uh, yeah, they left a few minutes ago."

"They're going have such a good time. Wish you could've gone with them, don't you?"

Ash smiled shakily. _You have _no_ idea_, he thought. "Yeah. That would've been cool."

Mrs. Oak nodded. "Okay, you stay there, Ash. He'll be right out."

As soon as she left, the forced smile was wiped clean off Ash's face. He could hear her shouting to Gary, and his body stiffened again. Reaching up to wipe more perspiration from his brow, he took a deep, insecure breath, trying to calm himself down.

_I can do this, I can do this_. After all, it wasn't like he was meeting the President, or facing an unmerciful court judge. This was Gary, his _friend_, the kid he previously held a bond with that could have been mistaken for brotherhood.

But this was a different Gary, he realized dismally. And in light of the recent events—how a majority of the fights were his fault, how Gary had tried so many times to apologize and Ash had not given him the chance—his humility was not fortifying his defense in the least. At that moment, he wondered if Gary would even have the interest to hear him out.

Suddenly, the sound of trudging footsteps on the staircase pricked his ears. Ash stopped breathing, and didn't resume when Gary came to the door. Their eyes locked brusquely and uncomfortably. The quietness of the lazy day intensified as not a word came out of either of the boys' mouths, every unsettling thought and emotion expressed by their deadlock gape.

"Hi, Ash," Gary muttered, though good-naturedly.

Ash managed to swallow the bulky lump in his throat. "Hi, Gary," he replied, barely above a whisper.

And then ensued the thickly, awkward silence. Unfortunately stuck in the position of the caller, Ash knew he needed to speak next, but didn't know if he could. His eyes quickly darted away from Gary, panic rising again. He was at a loss for words.

_I knew this would happen_, he groaned to himself, his troubled glare set on his sneakers. _You have to say something_, he told himself demandingly. _You have to; you brought yourself here, now you have to go through with it . . ._

When Ash looked back at Gary, he noticed that he, too, was preoccupied otherwise, his attention fixated down the sun-drenched lonely road. But feeling Ash's focus back on him, his eyes immediately flicked back. Ash inhaled; this was it.

"Um," he uttered, clearing his throat. He pointed down the road limply. "You wanna go for a walk?"

It was no shock that Gary was completely stupefied at the request. His head jerked back slightly.

"Sure," he then said softly.

_Sure?_ Not only did Ash not believe the answer, but how easily it had come out as well. He was going to _talk_ to him? Muddled, Ash didn't know yet if this was a good start or a bad.

Faltering, he finally responded, "Okay." Turning away, and making sure to allow his eyes to widen incredulously only afterwards, Ash dragged his feet down the walkway as Gary screamed into the house, "Ma, I'm going out with Ash! I'll be back!" and the sharp slam of the screen door behind him.

_Calm down, calm down_, Ash soothed himself. He paid almost no regard to Gary as he made his way out onto the street, but was very much indeed conscious of his every move. He could feel him following behind, making his scalp prickle sensitively. The feeling was keenly similar to one Ash had experienced as a child, walking past a neighbor's yard that contained a particularly cantankerous Growlithe. The creature would charge at the gate and bark and growl as Ash marched stiffly and swiftly by, leaving him, momentarily, fearing for his life.

But just as he had been in no real danger then, he was confronted by no life-threatening ordeal now.

_It's just Gary_, he reminded himself, _you can do this. Just speak your mind. It's no big deal. He's not going to kill you._

In fact, Ash didn't really understand why he was so nervous. It wasn't like he was asking Gary to bail him out of debt or . . . asking for a kidney or something. As they strolled together down the road, the only sounds being the crunch of the dirt and pebbles beneath their feet and the rhythmic swishing of Gary's jeans, Ash figured Gary would be just as agreeable to what he was proposing as he was.

Stuffing his clammy hands into his pockets, Ash kept at a leisurely pace. Gary had come up beside him, but Ash kept his eyes strictly down. After nearly two years of nothing but fighting and competition, they were bizarrely together in a sort of civilized fashion, drowning in deep silence.

Obviously, though, the lack of speaking made Gary too anxious. "So . . . what's up?" he asked all of a sudden, making Ash's heart leap.

"Umm," he struggled. Trembling, he lifted his eyes to catch Gary looking expectantly at him. He tore his gaze away, and bit savagely at his lip.

"It's about the battle yesterday, isn't it?" Gary presumed. Ash wanted to reply, but couldn't, so Gary continued. "Look, Ash, I know that's what it is, so why don't you just—"

"Wait, stop!" Ash shouted abruptly. Gary's mouth did just that, along with his feet. They both halted, Ash's hand flying to his forehead to continue to shield himself from Gary's discomforting stare. As easy as it was, Ash knew he couldn't let Gary speak first. He couldn't allow any opportunity for Gary to upset him before he even had a chance to state his claim. The pressure coerced him to proceed.

"Just," he said restlessly, "l-let me say something first, okay? Let me talk and then . . . and then you can . . . say what you have to say. Okay?"

Gary perked intriguingly at this. "Okay . . ."

Ash took his hand away from his face. "Um . . . you're right. It—it is about yesterday, but . . . it's about everything else, too. It's about what's been going on between us—all the fighting, an-and the rivalry, and how we're always at each other's throats. And what happened yesterday was . . . the worst of it all . . ."

"But I was—"

"No, please let me talk!" Ash interrupted him forcibly. "Please . . . I just—I need to say one thing, and . . . and I'm done . . ."

Gary was inert, waiting in suspense. Ash paused. "I don't want to do it anymore."

He tilted his head. "You mean be rivals?"

Though that was only part of it, Ash nodded, because it was one of the underlying purposes of the visit.

But what Gary said next, so sincerely, so ruefully, shocked Ash. "Neither do I."

Ash instinctively opened his mouth to continue, but all that came out was a flabbergasted, "Huh?"

Shrugging, Gary fixed a moderate smile on his face. "I don't want be rivals anymore, either, Ash."

If it were at all possible, Ash became even more flustered by this sudden change of attitude on Gary's part. Never before did he imagine those words coming out of Gary's mouth, and at this moment in particular.

"Y-you don't?"

"Nah," Gary answered, his smile growing. "I mean, it was fun at first, but . . . after what's been going on lately, it's just been getting nasty, and . . . it's not fun anymore." Ash gaped at him as he chuckled. "I wanted it to be _some_ sort of friendly competition, but now it's just . . . _bad_." He shrugged. "Not the way I wanted it to be."

Now what did he say to _that?_ Ash simply continued to stand there, gawk-eyed, taking into Gary's casual demeanor and wondering how his rival could easily mistaken this neat brush-off for a heart-felt make-up session. He wouldn't allow that—would he?

Clearing his throat, he decided quickly that he couldn't. No, it was too far gone now. "No, Gary, um, listen . . . It's not just that. I—I don't want to be rivals anymore, but . . . I think that's just . . . part of what I don't want anymore."

Gary was confused. "I don't know what you mean . . ."

"I mean I don't . . . want to be friends, either."

At first, Gary's facial expression didn't change, but Ash knew his announcement was certainly a blunt and effective one. Sure enough, Gary's eyes fell, flickering thoughtfully. Ash's heart was racing, and his uneasiness prompted him to continue.

"I—I, uh, I just think it's for the best," he elaborated, too timorous to look at Gary as he spoke. "We haven't been getting along, and there's too much stuff that happened that . . . just makes me not want to bother anymore."

Gradually, Gary took it in and accepted it with slow nods of his head. "So . . ." he started, "you want us to be strangers."

Did he want that? Yes—he did. "Yeah," he replied quietly.

"You want us to be strangers," Gary restated, and Ash finally looked up at him. "Two guys who just so happen to be going for the same thing, who just so happen to live in the same town, on the same street, but . . . don't know each other?"

". . .Yeah."

Ash couldn't really tell what Gary was thinking in the silence that followed. He watched his former friend take on another contemplative expression, one that, to his wariness, did not look very accepting.

"Why?" Ash asked anxiously. "That's . . . not what you want?"

For a moment, it looked as though Gary didn't know quite how to answer this, which made Ash hold his breath.

"Well, I have to admit," he finally said, "this isn't what I was expecting."

Ash arched an eye. "You mean . . . you thought I wanted to make up with you?" he questioned with almost a hint of appall in his voice.

Surprisingly, Gary let out a laugh. "Well, if I knew that this was what it was going to be about, why did I even bother meeting you at the door?"

"I . . . dunno," he replied, extremely puzzled. He quickly took hold of himself as best as possible. "Anyway, no matter what you thought, I didn't do this to make up with you," he said firmly. "I just think that—that it's best if we go our separate ways. For good."

"Sure, I get it," Gary shrugged. He thought for another second. "Only . . ."

"Only what . . .?"

"Only it's not gonna be easy," he finished honestly.

His brow furrowing, Ash asked, "What do you mean?" After all that chaos his stormy rivalry with Gary had created, Ash couldn't think of anything more easy to do. Just being there and going through this ordeal was making him edgy to leave.

"Think about it," Gary replied. "You, me, pretending that we don't even know each other? Come on, Ash, as much as we would try to do that, it's not gonna work. Sure, we could pass each other along the road and not look at each other and or say anything and pretend we don't know who we are, but we still_ will_ know. We're never going to be real strangers. We live so close to each other, and—hey, what if we battle each other at the Johto League?" He laughed again, but Ash did not find the humor.

"We can try," Gary concluded, his tone denoting that he really would make the attempt, "but you know it isn't gonna work."

Ash didn't reply. Up to this point, he hadn't really thought extensively on what the disunion would entail, and all of a sudden, Gary had a good point, one that made everything Ash was solidly focused on hazy.

"But if that's what you want," said Gary, looking indifferently aside, "then . . . I can understand."

The stillness that followed was thick with awkwardness. Ash fidgeted on his feet. He didn't want to be there any longer. But he didn't want to leave, either. Though he had no idea what to say next, or what was supposed to happen next, the whole thing seemed heavily unconcluded.

"So . . . I guess this is the last time we'll be talking to one another, huh?" Gary suddenly broke the stillness.

The amount of ruefulness startled Ash. What was even more startling was how the simple statement almost brought the same feeling to him instantly. "Guess so," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Might as well make the most of it. Right?"

Ash regarded him oddly. _Make the most of it?_

"Just for the record," Gary continued slowly, "like I said . . . I never wanted it to get this rough."

"But it did," Ash said, all but regretfully.

"I know," he replied in the same tone. "And I'm sorry about that."

Hearing the solemn, inaudible apology made Ash's fists tighten. Though inwardly he reached out and vengefully snatched it, his mouth spoke differently. "It . . . it's not all your fault." _Where did that come from?_

"Yes it is. I was the one who started the whole rivalry. I started this whole thing, and . . . and what happened yesterday at the reception was my fault, too. That whole mess—it . . . You're right, Ash. You're right. I guess it's just . . . impossible between us now. And it's all because of me."

_All because of you_, echoed in Ash's brain. He didn't deny that it was mainly true. But there was that tiny bit of falseness in it, also—well, perhaps more than tiny, one that nagged at Ash as it seemed imminent that he was to respond next. Once again, however, Gary beat him to it.

"Anyway, I . . . I'm sorry if I got you in trouble yesterday."

_You should— _Ash interrupted his own dishonest thought. But he shrugged one shoulder. "It—it's all right," he replied distantly.

"I really felt bad, ya know? I know how tough your dad is, and when I saw how mad he looked . . . I felt bad because that battle was all my idea. It was my idea, and he probably thought it was yours, huh?"

The nagging was too much for Ash now. The nagging, prodding, miserable feeling of guilt. What he admitted to Misty the night before was dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"Just goes to show," Gary closed disgustedly, "that everything always gets rougher than what I want it to be. I never wanted that to happen yesterday. The rampage through the party."

Finally, Ash cleared his throat. He couldn't hold it in any longer. "It wouldn't've happened anyway if I hadn't accepted your challenge." It came out so fast, so garbled, that Gary barely caught it.

"No," he disagreed. "I was stupid to even _think_ of it. A Pokémon battle at a partylike that." He shook his head at his own absurdity.

"You wouldn't have thought about it if I hadn't bothered you," Ash said, this time more clearly. His own level of indignity was rising, making it easier to admit this. "I had no right to tell you to leave the party."

"Well, I shouldn't've bothered _you_," Gary disputed. "After the things I said to you, and knowing that you were still pissed off about it, I shouldn't've even said hello."

It seemed like so long ago that Gary had spoken his callous words, yet Ash could still remember them distinctly. Whether Gary meant them or not, they welded themselves immovably in his mind.

_You shouldn't have_, Ash agreed bitterly. He stopped himself from expressing that thought, though; he couldn't, wouldn't. He'd made a promise.

"Still . . . I—I had no right to tell you to leave."

"Well," Gary sighed. "I did."

"Why?" Ash asked gruffly. Curiously, he wanted to hear Gary's reason. Unless he was made to, Ash couldn't picture the Gary he knew letting his pride be so easily wounded.

Gary shrugged, and to Ash's surprise, gave him a quirky grin. "Because I lost."

Ash's head jerked back. "What?"

"We both lost." Noting Ash's look, he laughed. "Control of our Pokémon," he added.

Blinking a number of times, Ash said, "Oh."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Gary threw a glance down the road. "I don't get it. I mean, I've only had Raichu for a month, but—but it always listened to me during training. It never did anything like . . . _that_ before."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Ash replied readily. "Pikachu never did th—"

The awareness of what he was doing suddenly took him by surprise. He didn't want to converse—he wasn't supposed to. Ash could feel himself cramp with panic. Still, the hanging of an unfinished sentence was too heavy, and rather with difficulty, he continued.

"Pikachu never did that before, either."

Gary snorted. "_That_ was bad."

". . . It was."

"And it got worse."

_Did it ever_, Ash thought. But this time he didn't reply. He didn't want discussion with Gary now, especially over the event that had so greatly sealed the breaking point of their enmity. Instead, he needed a way out. He needed to end this. Quickly.

But Gary never gave him the chance.

"Yeah, so I went home. Didn't feel like hanging around much anyway after that. That whole thing just . . . really knocked me for a loop." He kicked at the ground with his feet, sending some loose pebbles barreling down the road. "So how was the rest of the party?"

Luckily, Gary was too occupied to notice the bizarre side-long glance Ash gave him. _What does he think this is?_ Ash thought. If _Gary_ had given him this recent proposal, he wouldn't attempt to push such breezy chit-chat. What was he trying to do?

"It was all right," he answered dryly, though. _Just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes_, he chanted, reassuring himself.

"Just all right?"

"It . . . was fun."

"Good," Gary cleared his throat. "Actually, I was thinking about coming back for the meal, but I thought that'd be kinda rude. But then May came back to the house half-way through with a plate of that pineapple chicken. That was _so_ good; did your mom _make_ that?"

"Well, her place did." Ash's voice was beginning to break from its muffled state. "I-it's what my dad wanted."

"It was awesome," declared Gary with a smile. "Of course, Ma'd sent May to try to get me to come back, but I wasn't going to. Besides, by then I was actually enjoying being alone in the house without people hounding me to do this and do that." He laughed.

Ash just acknowledged it with a nod, wondering when this was going to end.

"Only have to put up with that for another month, though. I'm _dying_ to go back out on my journey, but Mom convinced me to stay till my birthday," he rolled his eyes.

_Birthday_, Ash thought. _Guess I won't be needing to get him something this year . . . _

"She's good at that. But she keeps dropping hints here and there about what they're giving me. I think it's a cell phone." He brightened with a giddy smile, which Ash shakily tried to imitate to at least show some sort of interest. It wasn't that convincing. He couldn't get it: was this chatter-box the same person he had just basically _told off_?

"And besides, I think my grandpa's giving me a Pokémon. He gave me one last year, so I don't see why he wouldn't do it again. And I don't wanna leave without that now, do I?"

_Like you _need_ another Pokémon_, Ash felt compelled to snort. Was Gary ever going to shut up so he could _leave_?

"So how much longer are you gonna hang around in Pallet?"

Ash did everything he could to contain his urge to glare. _Don't you get it?_ he thought. _I don't want to talk to you!_

But he regarded the question, shrugged. "I dunno. Not—not much longer, I guess. I was hanging around for the wedding."

Gary nodded. "Yeah. That was so cool. You know, for your parents. And you, too. Get a cool party and good food and all. Coulda gone for more of that chicken," he chuckled. "Or a piece of cake. I figured your mom made the cake, too. She makes _great_ cakes." He paused. "I'm gonna miss her cakes, you know? Especially the—what was it? She made it for us that one time when I slept over; I forgot what it was, but do you remember that?"

Ash looked up quizzically. "Remember?"

"Yeah," Gary smiled. "The first time I ever slept over."

_Slept over . . ._

"There were no snacks in the house, and your mom felt bad, so she baked us a cake with—I dunno, there was a spice in it, or something. What was that again?"

For a second, Ash face wrinkled with confusion, until it dawned on him. "Oh!" he replied, perking. "Mace! It had mace in it."

Gary pointed a finger at him exuberantly. "That's it! Remember your dad came in and asked if she was making 'the killer cake'?"

It was impossible for Ash not to smile, much less laugh. The memory came racing back, accompanied by the sudden watering of his mouth at the thought of his mother's delicious mace cake. "Yeah . . . yeah, I do remember that."

"Your mom didn't make that cake for the wedding, _did_ she?"

"Oh . . . no." His laughter died down.

"Good. Then I would've _really_ been upset," he breathed, wiping his brow facetiously.

Ash's mind continued to drift inadvertently to thoughts of their sleepovers—the good ones, not their latest fruitless attempt. He quickly tried to shake the memories away. _No, no memories, no memories, _he chided himself._ Memories aren't good. Shut up, Gary, shut up!_

But alas, Gary did not shut up. Instead, as if he was striving to find more things to talk about, he said, "I'm sure you had a good time with Misty for the rest of the party."

At the sound of her name, Ash's attention was seized sharply.

"So . . . you and Misty . . . you're really . . .?" Gary gave him a sly smile, a gesture nudging Ash for the answer.

"Um—um, yeah," Ash smiled timidly.

"That's great, man. She's a pretty girl."

The smile suddenly grew with ease. "She is."

Gary took an uncomfortable breath. "Look, I, uh . . . I didn't mean what I said about her at the party. You know, why you two—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ash interrupted. He didn't want to think about that right now, but it was too late. The sleepover memories were swiftly replaced.

"I guess . . . I guess I was just a little surprised, and—and caught up in the moment of fighting. I'm sorry."

Ash took in Gary's very serious, very remorseful face; the apology was real. Apologies, apologies. He wasn't surprised he was receiving them, but he sure as hell was surprised at how they were presently making him feel. Aside from the annoyance of his headache posing its second attack.

"It's okay," he whispered listlessly.

Gary accepted the pardon with a restored smile. Yet another silence fell between them.

Apologies and silence. Silence and apologies. Ash didn't know if he could take much more of it. Of course he welcomed the apologies, they were certainly not difficult to hear; but his own indifference in accepting them were peculiarly unsettling. The silence was even more cruel: it made Ash's mind stray. It was something he hardly needed at this point. All it was doing now was making him feel bad about himself, and making him remember things that were not helpful in making this final good-bye any easier.

He was more than ready to leave, but not just because he couldn't stand being in Gary's company any longer. The longer the meeting went on, the more chance Gary would have to drudge up some other remarks to test Ash's resolution. He wanted to wrap it up quickly and uneventfully and go home, where his friends were waiting anxiously for him.

And it was like Gary read his mind. "Well, I guess Misty is waiting for you," he said.

Ash inhaled deeply. "Yeah."

Gary let out a laugh. "You do realize how cool that is, right? Look at you, twelve-year-old guy and you already got a girl to come home to."

"Heh, yeah, that is pretty cool," Ash admitted with a smile.

"So." Gary hesitated before extending his hand toward Ash. "Guess this is it, huh?"

Staring down at Gary's hand, Ash felt his innards tighten. _This is it. _"Guess so," he replied. He took Gary's hand for a moment, but there was no shake.

"Gonna miss ya, Ash," Gary said, smiling sadly.

_Gonna mis— _Ash couldn't believe how freely that almost came out. But it hadn't. Grounding his teeth, he simply nodded, and began to walk backwards and away from Gary—for the last time.

Gary remained as he was, looking unmotivated to move. He was anything but content, but trying to come to terms with this as tolerably as he could. Ash could see this, and it wasn't helping. Why couldn't Gary be so aloof like he normally was? Why did he have to act differently _now? _The way he appeared, it was almost as if he didn't want Ash to leave, like he was still expecting something else, like—

"Hey, Ash?" Like he still had one last thing to say.

Ash halted, his heart speeding up again. _What now . . .?_ he silently wondered.

"Just—before you go, and since this is probably the last time I'm ever gonna talk to you . . ." He bit his lip, and Ash became attentive. "I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry. About everything. I know I've said I'm sorry a million times, but . . . I mean it. I'm sorry that—I'm sorry about yesterday, and about the sleepover and accusing you of that stuff, and—an-and provoking you, and . . . And I'm sorry about what I said to you that day—in your backyard. You know, about your parents." He shrugged helplessly. "That was so wrong of me to say that stuff to you. And it was false, and I'm sorry; it—it was just stuff I heard that I didn't understand. Or that I shouldn't've mentioned to you. I mean . . . heh, what can I say? I take after my mom. I love gossip. Guess . . . I just have a bad habit of telling it to the people it's _about_."

"Yeah . . . I'd work on that . . ." Ash cleared his throat, looking away at the mountains. Another apology, another uneasy clench in his gut.

"Yeah," Gary agreed, smiling shyly. "Anyway, I . . . I—I don't know what got into me. It's like—like this whole rivalry just . . . totally screwed up everything with me. Th-the seeing who would get the most badges first, or who would do better in the Pokémon League, or get more Pokémon—that's what this rivalry was supposed to be—_if anything_.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, Ash. I know it looks like I wanted it to be, but it's not. I didn't want it to start this nasty fight between us. I like competing with you, but for fun. Honestly." His voice grew silent, but it was not forced. Ash's ears pricked further.

"I don't want to fight with you. And I realized that it's my fault, that I started it; I do. I guess . . . I guess it just all got to my head. I always let things get to my head," he grit his teeth shamefully. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately. But I just want you to know, Ash . . . I'm sorry. I am."

Ash still had his eyes fixed on the mountains. He was hanging on Gary's every word—more than he wished. _Stop now_, he told Gary in his mind. _Stop before you make me feel any more bad about doing this._

"I'd give anything—_really_—to go back and change everything," Gary defiantly went on, though. "Have things back to normal again. You know, before we trained. But . . . I know it's not gonna happen. I don't blame you for not wanting to know me anymore. I'm a horrible person, so I understand. I just wanted you to know that . . . that I wished it hadn't happened this way."

Ash's attention was diverted from the landscape. _Horrible person?_

And suddenly, Gary was moving past him. He was done. The roles were at once reversed as Gary was the one leaving, heading home.

Ash watched him go, his last drawn-out amends floating around in his head. Unable to completely grasp it, Gary's ardent apology and confession were just so . . . unGary-like. He hadn't expected that at all whatsoever, and as Gary advanced further and further away from him, Ash saw someone different than the boy he'd been fighting with for nearly two years.

"Oh, and Ash?" About fifteen feet away, Gary stopped and looked back. Wrenched from his thoughts, Ash became alert again. Gary gave him a weak smile. "Just to let you know: If ever you change your mind, you know where to find me."

_Change my mind?_ Ash wondered. _Why . . . would I want to do that . . .?_

"See ya, Ash." Giving one more final wave, Gary continued down the hot, wavering road.

_See ya, Gary_.

He didn't know what he was thinking. He was crazy to think it, wasn't he? Ash felt there was no other reason for his thoughts. A feasible one, at least. But as Gary's apology, very obviously but not so blatantly frank, entrenched itself deeper in Ash's mind, there was no denying the sudden onrush of ambivalent feelings on his part. As much as he wanted Gary to keep walking, something wanted him back as well. Something within him wouldn't let him simply dismiss Gary's feelings as unimportant.

What he did next he found nothing short of surreal. It was as if he had no other choice, that the nagging he had experienced early had returned, but for a different purpose, edging him and prodding him and forcing the word right to his lips.

"G-gary?" _Oh man, what am I _doing

Pausing in midstride, Gary gradually turned around at the call of his name.

Ash swallowed heavily, nearly gulped. "I, uh . . ." Gary looked sharp. The pressure made Ash's entire body quiver, wondering if what he was about to say next was one of the wisest moves of his young life.

"I . . . I suppose we could . . . give it one more shot," he finished. And with that simple statement, the future suddenly became a wide-open blur of possibilities.

The look on Gary's face was not surprising. Within an instant, it brightened to one of pleasant shock.

"Gee," he commented, "that was pretty quick."

Ash flushed with discomfiture. "Well."

"I thought I'd at least make it to my house before you changed your mind," chuckled Gary lightly.

For a moment, Ash found Gary's flippant mood to be somewhat startling, mistrustful. Had he been . . . expecting Ash's change of heart so rapidly as a result of his sham apology? But what was said next solidly—and thankfully—convinced Ash that was not true.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Gary asked. "I'm not forcing you to make a decision you don't want to, Ash."

"No. No, it's . . ." Ash shrugged admittingly. "It's that I don't know what to do that I'm doing this. If that makes any sense."

"Sorta does."

"I—" Stopping, Ash breathed deeply. "I don't think you're a horrible person, Gary. You haven't been the _nicest_ one to me, but . . . I—I haven't been the nicest one to you, either. A lot of the stuff you did—and that I did—was my fault, too. I mean, a-at that sleepover, when you tried to apologize to me and I didn't accept it—I felt bad about that. Just like all the times I felt bad after meeting up with you somewhere and having fights with you over dumb stuff that I realize, when I look back on it, you didn't really start."

Gary nodded in comprehension.

Ash shrugged again. "It wasn't easy for me to come over here to do this. I felt ten times more guilty about what I did in all of this, but . . . I had no other idea how to fix it."

He still couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth, but there was no doubt that he was beginning to feel considerably better. He basked in this sensation, despite the fact he still wasn't sure if what he was doing was right.

"Well, I'm willing to fix it," Gary smiled softly. "What do you think we should do?"

What did he want to do? Ash, in all honesty, had no idea, and this unpreparedness was clear in his outwardly ignorant expression.

"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do," Gary said, making his way back towards Ash. "I feel kind of embarrassed saying this, but . . . I'll stop tormenting you. Heh, sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Sounds fine," Ash managed a small smile. _Sounds . . . so not like you_, he almost laughed. After all, Gary's harassing didn't begin with the rivalry. But his high hopes at that moment eagerly embraced the promise.

"And," Ash added, knowing it was his turn to pledge his part, "well, I'll try not to be so stubborn about putting stuff that happened between us behind me."

"I'll try to do the same with our rivalry," Gary agreed.

"It's not going to be easy," Ash mumbled, smiling embarrassingly as he quoted Gary's former dispute.

Laughing, Gary nodded. "Tell me about it! After all this, I'm _still_ standing here wanting to compare how many badges we have!"

"Two," informed Ash willingly but meekly.

"Four."

Ash smacked his forehead, but his smile was still there, weary. "Go ahead."

"Go ahead and do what? Two badges is awesome!" Gary exclaimed.

Arching an eye at him, Ash snorted humorously. "You're kidding, right? You're not gonna make fun of me?"

"Why would I?" Gary shrugged. "Now if you said you had one, or _none_, well then maybe . . ."

"None!? I've been traveling for two months! How could I have none?"

"Exactly," replied Gary, giving a hearty slap to Ash's shoulder. "You're doin' all right. I have no reason to make fun of ya."

Well, that was certainly a switch. Ash was amazed. His test, in just the first few minutes of their civilized talk, had proven successful. But he still doubted how long this would last, or if it would last at all. He stuck by his belief in any case: if they were going to try to rekindle their friendship, it wasn't all going to happen in one shot.

"So," he said, "I guess then . . . we're just going to have to play this all as it comes, huh?"

Gary tilted his head. "I guess. Unless you have something in mind that we can do."

Ash was willing to try it, but he wasn't sure if he was ready just yet. Standing there in the blazing sun, dazed and suffering from his headache, he still wasn't sure if it was all happening. He needed time to think.

"I don't have any ideas right now," he responded. And suddenly, like a flash, a thought sprang to his head. "Unless . . ."

"Yeah?"

Ash glanced down the road in the direction of his house. Incidentally, he began walking in that direction, and Gary followed. "Um . . . my parents are coming home on Thursday night. Around like seven o'clock. We're gonna be cooking a big dinner for them, and we'll have a lot of food, so . . . I dunno, you want to come?"

"To your house? For dinner?" Gary's tone was stunned, and Ash immediately realized what an odd suggestion it was. But he couldn't think of anything better at the moment.

"Yeah, sure," Ash shrugged. He made a silly grin. "I was actually planning on asking Brock if I could make the dinner. I've been wanting to give it a shot."

Gary almost burst out laughing. "Are you trying to get me to come and convince me not to?"

"What?" Ash laughed confusingly.

Slumping, Gary groaned amusingly. "Oh, come on, Ash! Remember the one time you were over my house and you and I decided to try to make milkshakes? While my mom was outside?"

At the reminder of the incident, Ash's eyes flared and he covered his grinning mouth with his hand.

"Yeah, _exactly_," Gary said. "My mom was finding ice cream all over the kitchen for a week afterwards."

"Hey, that wasn't completely my fault! You didn't check to see if the lid was on tight enough, either!" Ash defended himself, referring to that of the blender.

"Yeah. Which was exactly my mom's reason when I tried to blame it on you," Gary smirked. Ash rolled his eyes. "So is that what you're gonna pull again?"

"Hopefully _not_."

"All right, then I suppose I'll come," Gary gave in. "You want me to bring wine or something?" he joked.

Ash shook his head and laughed. "We have enough, thanks."

Gary nodded, taking on a pensive look. "So if we get through this, then I guess that means we're good?"

"I'm crazy enough to think so," Ash admitted. "If I do my part, and you do yours."

"I'll do my part," Gary avowed with a hand over his chest. Now in front of Gary's house once again, they stopped. "Whaddah ya say, then?" At this, he extended his shaking hand once again. "Friendly rivalry?"

Sounded better than nothing, Ash figured. He chortled. "Whatever that means," he settled, this time sharing a strong handshake with Gary.

"Means we're allowed to brag all we want, but we can't put the other down," he explained.

"I think I can handle that," Ash winked.

"Same here. _Easily_."

Ash grinned, and there was another moment of silence, though this one lacked the untimely anxiety of before. The two boys breathed affably as they looked off randomly at the surroundings, letting the effect of their tryst soak in. Ash's heart was gradually beginning to slow down, but it was beating more out of excitement than worry now.

"Well, I guess I'll really let you get home to Misty now," Gary suddenly announced. "I'll see you Thursday night, Ash. Or maybe even sooner."

Ash nodded once. "Maybe. I'll . . . I'll give you a call." _Call?_ _When was the last time I called Gary . . .? _He was still in wonder that he uttered such a statement to Gary alone.

"You got it," Gary replied, starting up the walk to his house and waving. "See ya, Ash."

"Bye," Ash returned the farewell, waving as well.

He stood for a brief time after Gary went into his house, staring at the front door, almost as if in a stupor.

_Did that just really happen?_ he asked himself. Did he just really make amends with his arch-rival, or was it just some wacky hallucination?

Whatever it was, though, Ash realized as he languidly turned on his heels and started the walk home, it felt eerily satisfying. Seconds later was when it finally hit him.

* * *

As Ash made his way home, a tiny, disbelieving smile soon etched into his sweat-glazed face, the world suddenly became lighter. The birds finally chirped happily in the dense heat as they soared above his head like jets, and the crickets' buzz drilled his ears with a sense of jubilance, cheering for him. There was a lively spring in his step, his calves tightening and cramping as the quest to get home at once became a hurry. His headache was no longer a thing of concern. The news bounded in his brain, danced on his tongue, eager to be spread triumphantly. Just the looks on Misty and Brock's faces alone made the short trip back to his house seem like an excursion. 

Approaching his house, Ash's restless walk swiftly became a dash. He was almost compelled to jump into the air and whoop, the verve of his excitement firing sharp surges through every limb of his body. Slowing to a trot as he reached the front gate, he made a swooping turn into the yard, leaped to the patio, and rapped tumultuously on the door.

Shivers ran up his spine as he watched Misty's shadowed image emerge from the kitchen and walk up to the door, Brock and Pikachu following right behind. With all his might, he tried to control his silly grin, but it was futile.

As she slid the door open and he waltzed in, lifting his head to enhance his cheeky smirk, her face became dubious. Brock looked just as leery, neither of them knowing what to make of Ash's spunky entrance. The smile he displayed, easily comparable to the one during his drunken escapade the night before, was what really baffled them.

Misty turned to Brock. "Okay, he's smiling. What do you think that means?" she asked, sounding very distrustful.

Brock stroked his chin as Ash posed for him happily. "Well . . ." he speculated, "it could mean one of two things. Either that stupid grin he's giving us is saying, 'Guess what, guys! All went well!' . . . Orrrrr, it could possibly mean, 'Hey guys, Gary's knocked out on his front lawn, and look, I don't have a scratch on me!'"

Ash couldn't keep his laughter in at that. Misty had to smile as well, but she still feared the reason.

"All right, Ash, which one is it?" she demanded.

"Oh, the second one, of course!" He pumped a fist in the air gleefully, as if it were terrific news.

"Ash!" Misty exclaimed, her smile vanishing promptly. "You don't mean that!"

"He doesn't mean that," Brock said.

Ash chuckled. "Of course I don't mean it," he sang calmly, watching Misty slump in relief. "I'm kidding. You really believed that?"

Misty huffed. "Yeah, I believed it! I don't know what to expect when you meet up with Gary anymore! You could've killed him for all we know!"

"Well, I didn't now, did I?" he smirked impudently.

Brock was eyeing him knowingly. "Gary wasn't home, was he?"

Ash slapped his forehead. "Yes, he was home! And I saw him. And we didn't kill each other."

"So . . . he slammed the door in your face, then," Brock assumed again, and Misty gave him a pat on the shoulder, nodding in agreement.

"Either that, or he saw him through the window!" she laughed.

While the two of them snickered away, Ash watched patiently, his arms folded and lips pursed. _Wait till they hear it_, he thought, the delay in spreading his news making it all the more spine tingling. _This is gonna be so great!_

"Fine, say what you want," he cut in. "But for your information, I did see him, _and_ I talked to him."

Their giggling dissipated, and Misty gave a great sigh.

"So what happened, then?" she asked.

Ash went to answer, but she quickly interrupted, "Wait! Answer one question first!"

"Misty!" Brock smacked his thighs in frustration. "We're never gonna find out what happened if you don't let him talk!"

"Shush," she gave him a shove, then focused an investigative glance on her still grinning boyfriend. "Did you fight?"

Rolling his eyes, Ash sighed. "Does it look like I fought?" He held out his hands for them to note the fact they were neither bruised nor swollen, as if that was convincing enough.

"Well, you _are_ very sweaty," Misty observed.

"That's 'cause it's like a thousands degrees outside!" retorted Ash, gesturing towards the front yard.

"His clothes aren't dirty," Brock suddenly revealed. He shook his head. "He hasn't been fighting."

Misty saw and nodded, pleased, while Ash arching his shoulders proudly. In fact, he liked this game; it was more fun than just declaring what had happened. But there was no way either of them would guess that Gary would be their special guest Thursday night through twenty questions. Ash shivered with anticipation.

"Okay, Ash," Misty continued. "So this whole time you've been talking to him?"

"Yup."

"I can't believe that. There was yelling," she presumed.

"Nope," Ash happily corrected her. "There was no yelling."

"There was just talking?"

Ash glanced at the ceiling, wondering if that was the accurate term. "Yeah," he concurred. "Talking."

"Nasty talking?" Brock took a stab at the grilling.

Ash shook his head.

"Oh my God. So . . ." Misty decided to go to the final question—or _questions_, rather. "What's your status with him? You settled everything? You don't exist to each other anymore?"

Ash bit his tongue to keep his smile from growing too large. He didn't want to spoil it any more than it needed to be, making the engaging interrogation last as long as possible. "No, we exist to each other. More, actually."

"More?" the two of them choked in surprise.

"You didn't make up with him!" Misty cried breathlessly, already unable to believe the answer before hearing it.

Ash gazed into their anticipative faces, loving every second of it. "Not only did I make up with Gary," he said slowly and clearly, "but we decided to try to work things out, aaaand . . . I invited him for dinner on Thursday."

Misty and Brock's jaws promptly fell, and Ash started guffawing.

"Get out of here!" Misty practically screeched, her smile returning, exhilarated and wide.

"This is a joke!" Brock insisted.

"No joke!" Ash exulted boisterously. "I'm really serious!"

"Dinner?" gasped Misty. "You invited him for _dinner?_"

"Sure," Ash shrugged. "Isn't that what friends do?"

"You invited him for _dinner!?_" Brock repeated Misty's exclamation.

"Yes!" Ash stomped his foot giddily. He expected them to ask again, because he knew they had a hard time accepting it, as he still did himself, but they didn't.

"Ash, I . . . I . . ." Misty gaped at him, shaking her head incredulously. "You're lying. You have to be!" Her voice cracked at that, as if the amazement drained it of strength.

Lying! As if he could possibly fake something like this so fantastically! Ash took a second to stare into her lucid blue eyes, round as saucers, glittering like crystal in the sunshine. "Why would I lie to you?" he asked, shrugging. "I love you."

Stunned at the curt but completely sincere remark, Misty blinked a few times. "Really?" A small smile twitched on her lips.

Ash gave her a look, then shrugged again. "Of course!"

Unlike Ash's news about Gary, Misty didn't need any time to make sense of that. In a move that now caught Ash off guard, she leapt at him and threw her arms around his neck with enough force to make him stagger backwards. He quickly caught his balance, albeit clumsily, as he returned the embrace.

"I'm so proud of you! I can't believe you did this," Misty said, bringing her nose to affectionately touch his. A brisk but pleasant shiver coursed its way through his body, and, his cheeks tinting just a bit, he couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. Not only was it the first time he had ever initiated a kiss between them, but it was also the first time he had done so in the presence of other eyes. He felt so good he couldn't be bothered with the particulars of his former fright. Misty certainly had no qualms about it, either.

The kiss was abruptly interrupted, however, as they suddenly heard a vexed, "Hmmph!" This, of course, coming from Brock. They turned to see him cross his arms and toss his head, offended.

"What's wrong with you?" Ash chuckled.

"Ohhhhhh, that's right," Misty remembered. "I made Brock my new boyfriend while you were gone."

"What!?"

She grinned, prancing over to the facetiously pouting Brock and taking his arm. "Well, when you left, I figured that if Gary didn't kill you, your folks would after you caused another disaster. Then what would I do? I can't go on alone in life!"

Ash dumped his head in his hand, then looked up with a pained expression. "You really thought I was going to cause another disaster?" Misty narrowed her eyes, irked by his ignorance.

Brock glanced wistfully out the patio door. "Wow. Thirty minutes, and it's already over. It went by so fast!"

"Oh, Brock, come on," Misty laughed, slapping his shoulder. "Thirty minutes is pretty good for you! You should be thrilled!"

Brock pretended to cry. Misty shared an amused look with Ash, who had now caught on to the joke, then turned to continue the satire.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," she consoled, "it was one of the happiest half-hours of my life."

"My first relationship," Brock feigned sniffling. "And not even one kiss!"

Misty rolled her eyes. "Brock, please don't tell me you're gonna make me kiss you now."

Brock suddenly brightened. "Really? You will?"

"No."

"Oh," he sagged disappointedly. Ash snorted as Brock jut his lower lip out dramatically at Misty, who sighed at his nonsense. Exasperatedly, but with a smirk, she turned to Ash.

"May I?"

"Sure!" he replied, a little too easily.

"Ash! That's not what you're supposed to say!" Misty exclaimed.

Reeling back, Ash smiled innocently. "Oops?"

She threw her hands in the air. "Yeah, _oops_. Aren't I lucky to have the most jealous boyfriend in the world!" Nevertheless, she gave Brock a coy smile, and planted a quick but sound kiss on his cheek.

"There," she said. Brock's blush came effortlessly, and Misty affably tsk-tsked at the frivolousness while giving him a squeezing hug.

Ash frowned. "I'm jealous," he grumbled.

"Oh, you are _not!_" Misty's eyes flared with silly aggravation.

Ash shrugged. "Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked capriciously.

"Ugggh . . ." she moaned, shaking her head.

"Ooooh, lovers' spat!" Brock suddenly snapped out of his humility, bounding for the couch. He collapsed into it. "This calls for a make-up kiss! Go on, go back to kissing," he gestured them on encouragingly, proceeding to get comfortable. "Don't mind me."

Misty shot him a playfully reproachful look. "That's not just for your enjoyment, Brock!" She turned to Ash, though, and her smile grew. "But I'm so proud of what he did, I think I might have to do that!"

Ash blushed fiercely, and scratched the back of his head. "I wouldn't mind it," he admitted.

Misty skipped over to him and grabbed him in another hug, which Ash returned elatedly. Before they even had a chance to kiss, however, Brock sprang from the couch and joined in the group hug quite energetically, nearly toppling the three over. Ash and Misty both yelped from the impact—Misty more so as she was pinched between the two boys—but soon they were laughing dizzily, stumbling around in a tight but sloppy embrace.

Misty had to catch her breath when they finally separated. "Hey," she said, realizing something as she pushed strands of stray hair out of her face. "You invited Gary for Thursday night? But that's when your parents are coming home, Ash!"

"I know! That's what's going to be so great about it, Misty! When they walk in and see Gary here and that I'm not fighting with him, and then see how clean the house is and how good we took care of everything, it'll really prove that they can trust me, and know I can be mature!" he said cheerfully.

"That is, if you really do go through with all the cleaning you're promising to do," Brock commented in a parental-like tone.

"Yeah," Misty snickered, delighting in Ash's suddenly insulted look. "I don't think I'll really believe it until I see a vacuum."

"Come to think of it, Ash, do you even know where your mom keeps the vacuum?" Brock taunted.

"I bet he doesn't even know where she keeps the dusting rags!" hooted Misty.

Ash narrowed his eyes at them through a side-long glance. "I choose to ignore those completely unfair accusations," he crossed his arms. But unable to remain ticked off, even in the whimsical sense, he perked up. "By the way, I was thinking: What if I cooked dinner Thursday night? Wouldn't that be cool?" At once, Misty and Brock gave him a dumbfounded look before bursting out laughing.

Ash's face puffed irately. "What's so funny?"

Misty was starting to turn red in the face from all the ruckus. "I can't believe you actually just said that."

"What?" shrugged Ash. Then, gathering the theme of their harassing, he understood and scoffed. "Oh. Come on, you won't let me cook? I can do it, you know!"

"Have you ever even used the stove?" gibed Misty.

"Sure I have!"

"What, to boil tea?" she retorted. Brock found that particularly comical, almost doubling over.

"Oh, shut up," Ash bristled, balling his fists determinedly. "I can do it! We're making the big roast beef, right? I've watched Mom cook that a million times. How hard can it be?"

Brock wiped tears from his eyes. "Well, for you . . ." he began, but seeing Ash's pained, beseeching look, he relented with a smile. "All right, fine. You can cook, but don't think I'm not going to be standing over you the whole time. All Gary has to do is make fun of the way you're stirring something, and there goes the kitchen."

"Yeah, you and Gary in the same kitchen, Ash, and you in control of the stove—doesn't go well together," Misty said. "All I can see coming from this is a great big _ka-boom_."

"Ash doesn't need Gary in the kitchen to make it go ka-boom," Brock pointed out.

"There won't be a _ka-boom_," Ash sighed good-naturedly. "Everything'll be great! Ooh, I can't wait—I wish they were coming home today!"

"Well, I don't!" Brock said. "Especially if you want this place cleaned up from top to bottom. We'd actually better get started so we don't have to do it all Wednesday night."

"Right," Ash agreed. "And, just to prove you guys wrong, I can tell you that Mom keeps the vacuum in the upstairs closet," he added saucily.

Misty shook her head in amazement. "I can't believe it. He makes up with Gary _and_ wants to clean the house in the same day. I think it's like . . . a sign of the apocalypse or something."

"It better not be!" exclaimed Ash. "I still have the Johto League to compete in!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Brock flouted. "And I have to get a relationship that lasts longer than half-an-hour!"

"Ash's goal is much more attainable," Misty teased.

Brock gave her a look. "You're mean."

"I know," she grinned, giving his arm a friendly punch. She then spun around to Ash, and grabbed his hand.

"Come on, let's go clean something before you go back to your old self," she said, dragging him into the kitchen.

"Aww, but we have to celebrate first!" Ash whooped. "I say this calls for a beer and a phone call to Mom!"

"_Ash!_"

STAY TUNED FOR THE CONCLUSION!

_:shields herself: Eeek, let me explain, let me explain! ;;;; I know, I know, I said this was going to be the last chapter before the epilogue. But, well…let me put it to you this way: I've realized there's no way I'm ever going to make a living writing short stories. I totally underestimated the length of BH's final three scenes, and as you can tell, as there are only two scenes here, I needed to draw the line somewhere otherwise this chapter 21 would have exceed a whopping 30 pages. And that, my friends, is a lot to consume in one sitting. So I did it for your benefit, which I hope you find acceptable rather than annoying. ;;_

_But no need to worry, you will not have to wait long for the __**real**__ final chapter—and yes, it really is the __**real final chapter**__—because it is already done and ready to be uploaded. However, I will go back to my original routine and will post it a week from now. That's a guarantee. Not another two-month wait like it was for this one, which I apologize for. School has most certainly proven itself the current evil in my life, and yes, Ash and Gary are damn hard to write sometimes. _

_Thank you so much for your patience and putting up with my fluctuating chapter-count. And for reading, too, of course! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the one to come, and the epilogue, which I plan to have uploaded on Thanksgiving. Till then!_


	22. Welcome Home Surprises

****

Blue Heaven

__

By Spruceton Spook

Part 22

Welcome Home Surprises

The green countryside of Pallet Town whizzed by as Jay drove speedily—twenty miles over the speed-limit, as usual of him—down the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to a classic rock song blaring from the radio. Meanwhile, Delia, her feet propped up on the dashboard, tuned the music out rather easily, allowing herself to become hypnotized by the scenery and whirls of thoughts in her head. It had been an enjoyable drive from Cerulean City, but they were tired and hungry, eager to get home. Delia especially, and Jay knew this well. Though they had had a spectacular time on their trip, the children were on her mind a lot, as she missed them terribly and wondered how they were coping with the new responsibilities. It was not an incessant fret, but nevertheless Delia was looking forward to getting back to normal life.

Now, as they were barely ten minutes from home, Delia was eminently preoccupied. Jay threw glances at her every now and then, which she returned immediately with a warm smile, but this time she was totally immersed in thought and didn't feel his eyes on her at all.

Jay grinned, and gave her a smack on the leg. She started, wrenched from her reverie.

"Ow. What?" she laughed.

"You're in lala land, dearest," he winked. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh." She settled back into her seat, sighing contentedly. "Nothing."

"You worried about them kiddies?" Jay asked.

Delia smirked. "No. I'm worried about the condition of my house." Rubbing her tired eyes, she leaned towards the window and allowed the breezes to blow her loose hair about wildly.

"Oh, stop," her husband replied softly. "Your house's fine. Kids know what they're doing."

"I hope so. I'm just dreaded what I'm going to see when I open that door."

"Yeah, I bet it's a certified pigsty," Jay said sarcastically, laughing at himself.

Delia shook her head, then groaned. "The hamper's going be filled to the brim. I'm going to be doing wash for days."

"Well, you told them they didn't have to do laundry."

"Yeah, I know. It's all right, though. I'd rather do it than have them play around with the washing machine."

Jay wrinkled his nose, turning down the radio. "I'm sure Brock did some laundry."

"I can't wait to see what they ate in my living room," Delia went on.

"The crumbs in the cushions will tell all," Jay smiled.

"Or what's been spilled on my kitchen floor."

Chuckling quietly, Jay reached over and massaged her knee. "Stop worrying about it, babe. The house is still there. The kids are still alive. Sounds like everything went fine to me."

A grateful smile lifting Delia's face, she took hold of her husband's hand and brought it to her face. She loved the way he immediately began to stroke her chin, his warm hands making her body numb pleasantly. She couldn't have asked for a more amazing time with him. And now the thought of finally returning home to see her boy made everything all the more wonderful in her world.

"You're right," she whispered. And he was—she didn't care if her house was in shambles. All she cared about was seeing Ash's face light up when she walked through the door.

Despite Jay's speeding, the last few miles seemed like an eternity. When the house finally did come into view, he started laughing.

"There you go. It didn't burn down in the last two hours," he joked.

"Thank goodness," Delia proclaimed. Her hand was on the door handle before Jay even pulled up in front of the house, and as soon as he shifted into park, she immediately leapt out of the car and sprang toward the house.

"Delia, holy crap, wait up!" Jay cried, scuffling his way out of the car. Delia halted before the stoop. "Don't you wanna bring the bags in?"

"No, I want to see Ash! We can get those in a minute!" she yelled back with an immense smile, then spun around and dashed for the front door. Her husband was beside her with the key before she knew it. Delia danced around on her feet like a restless child as she waited for the lock to open, causing Jay to snicker.

"Calm down, honey, I'm opening it, I'm opening it," he said, pushing the door open. Delia broke through at the first crack.

"Ash, we're home!" she cried. In an instant, the two were greeted with the smell of dinner in the oven and sound of rock music, which surprisingly was not deafening. At once, the pounding of feet rang out, and Ash came flying from the kitchen, a smile of sheer happiness spread ear to ear.

"Mama!" he squealed, crashing into her embrace. "You're home!"

Delia chuckled. "Yes, I'm home, I'm home," she replied, rocking him in her arms and pressing a kiss into his hair. "How's my boy been? Oh, I missed you!"

"Great, Mom, I'm great!" he replied happily. Sliding past her, his smile soared as he vaulted into Jay's arms.

"Dad!"

"Hey, boy! Come 'ere." Jay stooped down and collected Ash, then hoisted him up with a groan. His son grasped his neck in a tight hug. 

Before long, Misty and Brock sprang from the aromatic kitchen, smiling tremendously.

"It's the rest of the kiddies!" Jay acknowledged perkily.

"Hi, kids!" Delia greeted.

"Welcome home!" Brock said, while Misty waved accordingly.

Ash, still roosted in his dad's arms, quickly grappled for more attention. "Did you bring me home somethin'?" he asked Jay friskily.

"Did I bring you home something!" chortled Jay. "Who said you get a present? Huh? Oh man, you're heavy. I can't do this anymore—down you go!"

Ash frowned sadly and pretended to sniffle as he slipped to the ground. His mischievous stint induced Jay to cuff him gently and lovingly upside the head. "Ah, don't worry, kiddo. We got presents in the car. They're for later, though."

"Awesome!" Ash chirped. His parents laughed, squashing him in another hug together.

"Hey, we can't leave the other two out!" Jay said, motioning for Misty and Brock to join. "Get over here! Group hug!"

The kids grinned as they bounded over and fastened themselves to the pack of cheerful Ketchums, making the embrace an unwieldy fivesome. 

"Ohhh, I missed you guys so much, too," Delia whimpered emotionally, giving each of them a kiss, including another prolonged one for Ash. "I'm so happy to see all of you."

They all began to laugh heartily, the bliss of a fine week and the reunion stirring them giddily. For the moment, the luscious smell of food was ignored, Delia forgot all about giving the house the initial once-over to see how orderly (or disorderly) it may be, and none of them were conscious to a sixth person presently standing on the kitchen's threshold, watching the joyous occasion with a smug but delighted smile.

"Eh, I think I'll pass on the hug for now," he said, waving it away with flicks of his fingers. "Too mushy for me."

Instantly, five attentive heads shot up and turned toward the source of the unforeseen mystery voice. Only, of course, it was no mystery to Ash, Misty, and Brock, who had seemed to forget Gary's company in the sudden affair but were abruptly reminded. Ash beamed immediately as he saw Gary smirking at the whimsical group, then turned to see his parents' faces.

Which, naturally, were of no surprise to him.

"Gary?" Jay and Delia concurrently gasped, gawking wide-eyed at the sight of their son's former rival in the living room.

"In the flesh," he returned, cocking his head proudly at the sound of his name. His expression then softened, and his smile became affable and almost modest. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Ketchum. How ya doing?"

Neither of the adults could speak. All they could do was gape at Gary, their jaws dropped in awe. Ash, Misty, and Brock did all they could to hold back their giggling. The looks on Jay and Delia's faces were priceless. Ash was especially amused. It was his idea for Gary to hide in the kitchen and show himself at the moment he felt was just perfect, and his old friend pulled it off flawlessly.

Finally, Delia let out a short laugh, almost like a pant. She looked at Gary, then at her son, who gave her a fabulously cheeky grin, then back at Gary again. "Um, Gary dear, I don't mean for this to sound rude . . ." she began carefully, "but what are you doing here?"

Still smiling, Gary shrugged. "Ashy here invited me. But he's doing a lousy job of entertaining, so I'm probably going to be leaving soon."

"You jerk, you've only been here for half an hour!" Ash exclaimed at that remark.

Gary huffed. "Half an hour of pure _boredom_," he said. "I have more fun watching my mom darn socks." 

Their jeers, of course, were all in good fun. On the contrary, the short time Gary had been there was nothing short of riotously engaging. Then again, what else was to be expected in a house filled with four rambunctious kids, music, and Ash attempting to cook a roast beef?

Ash gave him a bizarre look. "Your mom darns socks?" 

Gary's face, along with the other kids', fell wearily.

Jay held up an intermitting hand. "Wait a second, let me get this straight," he said, pointing at Ash as he gave Gary a lop-sided grin. "This kid invited you?"

"Heh, I wish it coulda been someone else," he replied.

"But—but," Delia struggled, still with a baffled smile. She arched an eyebrow at Ash. "Explain, please."

Ash shrugged easily. "Gary and I are friends again."

"Wha—? How?"

"Well, right after you left I went to Gary's, thinking I was going to break everything off with him . . ." Ash recalled.

"Then he comes home saying they're gonna work things out," Misty finished, rolling her eyes. "We still don't really know how it happened."

"Neither do I," Gary shook his head. "I still can't believe I'm here."

Jay and Delia exchanged a benumbed glance, then looked down at their son, who happily nodded to reaffirm it all. His smile was one of a kind—this was exactly the way he wanted the surprise to unfold.

"Well," his mother said, letting out another dazed laugh, "I don't know what you did, but I can't say I'm not happy with it! It's so nice to see you here again, Gary, and you and Ash . . . _not fighting_."

"Yeah, we made it four days like this so far!" Ash said proudly.

"It's like they're going through a ten-step program," joked Brock.

Jay shook his head in amazement. "Unbelievable," he uttered. He then gave Ash a shove, and fixed a stern look on him. "But hey! Didn't I say I didn't want you seeing Gary?"

Ash smiled nervously, though he knew his father was kidding around. "Yeah, I kinda took a chance," he admitted.

"How long after we left?" Jay wanted to know.

"Ten minutes!" Misty answered outrageously.

"Ten min—! _Ashton!_" shrieked Jay incredulously.

"What?" Ash cowered playfully. "We're friends again! Aren't ya happy?"

Jay sighed. "Suppose so. But you're a little stinker, ya know that? I can't trust a thing you do anymore," he chuckled.

Ash shrugged gently. "I wasn't going there to fight. But then again I didn't think I was going there to invite him for dinner tonight, either."

Delia's face lit up. "You're staying for dinner?" she asked Gary excitedly, who nodded. "That's wonderful!" she said, giving him a hug. "I haven't fed you in years!"

"Well, you aren't feeding him tonight, either," Jay pointed out. He sniffed the air zestfully. "Smells like they already got something cookin'."

Delia sniffed the air, too. "Mmm," she gushed. "Oh, Brock, that smells delicious! What are you making?"

She didn't wait for his reply, however, as she strode into the kitchen eagerly. The others followed, Misty giving Ash a secretive nudge. The heat of the kitchen engulfed them as Delia opened the oven, and, taking in the delectable sight and scent of the meat within, she flashed the older boy a broad beam.

"Roast beef!"

"Oohoohoo, that looks _really_ good," Jay's eyes widened hungrily.

"Oh, Brock, you are too good to be true!" Delia babbled. "This is exactly what I've been craving!"

Brock blushed. "As much as I'd like to say thank you, Mrs. K.," he giggled humbly, "Ash was the one who cooked dinner tonight."

It was then that Ash's smile considerably grew, especially with the onslaught of eyes suddenly directed his way. He straightened his shoulders complacently as his mom's shocked gape soaked into him, and did all he could to keep from chortling as she toiled to find what to say.

"You cooked the dinner?" she silently marveled.

"Yup," he nodded.

"Get out of here!" Jay mumbled.

"And we didn't help him one bit," Misty told his pleasantly stunned parents.

"He wouldn't let us," Brock added with a laugh.

Delia was indulged in silence as she threw a glimpse at the stove, then fixed a curved, little smile back on her exuberant boy.

"You cooked that roast beef all on your own?"

Ash nodded again. "I also made mash' potatoes—I mashed them just a minute ago—and I cut up carrots and broccoli which are in that pot right now," he boasted, pointing to the steamy pot that sat on the back burner.

Delia let out a laugh. "All by yourself?"

"Well, everything but vacuuming up the flour he spilt earlier," Misty snickered, causing her boyfriend to turn crimson.

"Flour?" Jay asked.

"Yeah," Ash cringed frivolously. "I kinda dropped a cup of flour on the floor."

"Which I wasn't here for!" Gary complained. "Two minutes earlier I would've had to come."

"What did you need flour for, sweetheart?" Delia asked.

"For the gravy," Ash replied. "I didn't make it yet, though. I forgot you have to wait for the meat to be done and take it out of the oven to make it."

"Gravy!?" Delia exclaimed. "You're making your _own_ gravy?" She honestly could not believe what she was hearing. Ash barely knew how to make a grilled-cheese sandwich for himself without burning it.

"Yeah, and _I'm_ going to make it," Ash exhorted. With his mother now home, he had no idea if she would insist on finishing his almost-completed meal, his current pride and joy. "After doing all this, I'm gonna do the whole job!"

Delia and Jay erupted in laughter.

"Okay, okay, little man, calm down," Delia said, taking him in a loose hug. "I'm not looking to make any gravy. Mommy's looking to take _a nap_."

"As if she didn't practically sleep the whole way home," Jay quipped.

"I'm exhausted," she moaned outright. 

It was then that she turned to the stove and adjoining counters to observe her son's first culinary experience, that which she still couldn't grasp. The fact that, for one thing, the area wasn't a complete disaster stunned her to no end. There were a few tiny spills here and there, along with leftover pieces of carrot and potato skin atop a cutting board. A cookbook was propped open against the wall, detailing the procedure for a tasty roast meal.

Overwhelmed with wonder, she gazed at Ash. "I can't believe you did this. Ash, you've never shown any interest in cooking before. What happened?"

"I don't know," Ash replied. "Guess I just wanted to try it. And I think I made it good, too! At least—I hope I did. I followed the recipe and everything. Wasn't hard."

"It looks like he did a pretty good job," Brock affirmed confidently. "I was watching him the whole time. He seemed to really know what he was doing. He measured out everything well, and he's been checking on it every few minutes. Everything I would've done."

"Except you might want to check those potatoes," Misty warned, pointing critically at the pot. "They might be a little lumpy."

Ash turned on her quickly, balling his fists. "Hey, I mashed those real good! There won't be any lumps!"

Misty derisively narrowed her eyes back at him. She loved the way she could get him worked up with one remark. "We'll see about that."

"Yeah, you know how much I hate lumpy mashed potatahs," Jay cautioned jokingly, whacking Ash's shoulder. "I'll send 'em right back."

Even though he knew they were badgering him, Ash slumped. "Fine. You want me to mash them some more?" he said, taking the lid off the pot and grabbing the potato-masher.

"No, no, honey, no," Delia laughed, taking the masher from him. "You don't have to. I'm sure they'll be the best mashed potatoes I've ever had."

"Mom, give me a break," Ash smiled wearily, not buying that whatsoever.

"Well, I'm sure for your first batch, they'll be delicious," she revised. "But Ash, this—this is great. It smells great, it looks great . . . You wanna help out at the restaurant Friday nights? We could use you," she grinned.

Considering this for a moment, Ash smiled up at her smugly. "How much?"

Delia's jaw dropped. "Well, excuse _me_, mister! How much! _Oooh_, you're just like your father! Here, this is your child," she said, snatching Ash and shoving him in Jay's direction. Ash laughed, then yelped in sudden agony as his dad startled tickling him.

"And you'll get it again tonight if I find one lump in my potatoes, buster," Jay threatened teasingly. 

Ash, red in the face, escaped by letting his legs slide out from underneath him, slipping out of his dad's clutches and torturing fingers. He plopped to the floor on his backside, then lay down with his arms outstretched.

"Ash, come on, get up from the floor," Delia scolded. "It's dirty."

Ash sat up briskly with a smile. "No, it's not! We washed it last night."

"You what?" Delia faltered.

"We washed it," repeated Ash. "Actually, me and Misty washed it while Brock vacuumed the dining room and the stairs. We did it right after he finished cleaning the oven, so that way the whole kitchen got clean at one time."

Once again, Jay and Delia were thunderstruck. They simultaneously looked down at the floor, which was without a doubt recently scoured. In fact, it gleamed. It was the latter disclosure, however, that grabbed Delia's attention.

"You _cleaned_ the oven?" she gasped at Brock. "Where'd you learn how to clean an oven?"

He shrugged. "Home. I had to learn—I cooked dinner for ten people for a year and a half. But yours is spic-and-span now," he said, giving a thumbs-up.

"Oh my," Delia shook her head. "Brock, you are something, you know that?"

"And not only that, Ma," Ash continued, "he washed the inside of the refrigerator and the microwave, too! And me and Misty scrubbed the bathroom."

"We cleaned the whole house," Misty summed it up.

"I did most of the work," Gary sneaked in.

"What!? You didn't do _any_ work!" Ash cried.

"Well, you didn't ask me."

"You mean . . . you woulda helped us?" Ash blinked.

"For your parents," Gary smirked, "yes. For you . . . no."

Ash sighed. Some things never changed. "Gee, thanks a lot, Gary."

"Any time, Ashy boy."

"Well, I have to say I can't believe you kids did all this work," Delia said commendably, giving them each a smile to denote her appreciation. "Thank you so much . . . it really means a lot to me. Especially since I was afraid I was going to come home to see the place a mess."

"Heh, not while I'm around," Brock declared with a chuckle.

"But doing all the extra cleaning was Ash's idea," Misty reminded. It was so gratifying to see Ash's face shine at the praise, all of which he deserved for his hard work and sacrifice during the last four days. When he could have been lounging around or putting the time toward extra training, he made sure that every nook and cranny of the house was spotless. Seeing how desperate he was to make good with his parents through this, she wanted to make sure he earned just that.

"I wanted to make sure everything was perfect so that you wouldn't have to come home and worry about cleaning or doing laundry or whatever," Ash said softly as he looked up at his mother and her fond smile.

"Oh, Ash," she whispered, her benevolent tone making Ash beam.

"You're all right there," Jay laughed as he reached down to ruffle his son's hair. "Come on now, buddy boy, up." He extended his hand to help hoist Ash to his feet.

"Ash, the dinner's going to be done in a few minutes," Brock said. The stove timer read that seven minutes remained before the roast was to be taken out.

Right away, the room began to disperse.

"I'm gonna go get the bags out of the car," Jay said, and headed out the front door.

"Yeah, I need to get a little freshened up before I eat your dinner," Delia told Ash, kissing his forehead. Then, her eyes widening, she turned to Gary. "Gary, your parents can come to dinner, too, if they like. Why don't you go call them?"

Ash's face suddenly fell. "B-but Mom, do we have enough?" he asked, looking at the stove doubtfully. "I—I just made a few potatoes—"

"Oh yeah, you're probably right," Delia quickly took it back upon further thought, cringing. "We might not have enough . . ."

"Don't worry about it, it's okay," Gary said, waving it away. "It's six-thirty. They're probably eating dinner right now, anyway."

Delia smiled. "Well then, why don't you tell them to come for coffee and dessert later? May can come, too. It'll be nice to have you all here again."

"Nah, forget about May. She's at her _boyfriend's _tonight," he scowled, as if it were a dirty word.

"May has a boyfriend?" Delia was thrilled. "That's great! What's his name?"

"I dunno," Gary shrugged.

Ash laughed. "You show a lot of interest in her."

"Hey, I gotta look out for her, ya know?" Gary replied with pretend seriousness.

Shaking her head, Delia ushered Gary towards the phone. "Why don't you call them right now. Tell them to come around seven-thirty. That way I have enough time to send my husband out to get some kind of cake," she giggled devilishly.

"You got it, Mrs. K."

While Gary was busy dialing his house and Delia dashed to the bathroom, Ash, Misty, and Brock stood in contented silence in the kitchen. Ash couldn't seem to wipe the almost senseless smile off his face, its reasons for being a combination of the satisfying feeling of bringing such favorable surprises to his parents, the mouth-watering smell of the roast, and just the overall aftereffect of the past four days, which not only had provided laborious work and inspection, but also some of the most fun hours he'd ever spent with Misty and Brock.

Suddenly, Misty tugged Ash's sleeve, and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Come outside."

Ash gave her a look. "Huh? Why?"

"Just—come on," she bubbled, proceeding to drag him to the backdoor.

"Hey, where are you going?" Brock asked. "Ash, you can't leave your dinner now!"

"Yeah!" Ash agreed, wondering why Misty was so intent on taking him outside five minutes before his famed meal was done.

"Oh shut up, I'll have him back in here with two minutes to spare," replied Misty. With that, she opened the screen door and led Ash out into the shady but still muggy backyard.

Ash didn't know at all what this was about, but because of his good mood, he was far from worried. He felt a bit mischievous. As Misty walked him deeper into the yard, he started swinging her hand around, skipping on his toes.

"Misty, what's up? My dinner's gonna burnnnn," he grumbled giddily.

"Your dinner's not gonna burn, Ash," Misty said, stopping him and taking both his hands in her own. "I wouldn't let that happen."

For a moment, not another word passed between them. With the sun glistening through Misty's stray hair, creating a brilliant orange-red hue, Ash simply gazed at her, which she returned ever so fervidly. That frivolous smile of his was far from gone, and lured Misty helplessly into laughter.

"I'm so happy to see you like this," she told him.

"I'm happy to see me like this, too," he grinned.

"Your parents—they're . . . happy, too." Misty laughed.

"Do you think Brock and Gary are happy?"

"Sure. Lots of happy people."

"And happy Pokémon, too. Especially Pikachu when I give him a piece of roast beef."

"I wonder if Togepi will like mashed potatoes?"

"He might," Ash replied, letting his hyper smile soften a bit to one more obliging.

The calming sounds of the idle country evening filled their ears again as another blissful stillness fell among them. The dinner was temporarily pushed to the back of Ash's mind as he looked up and watched Pidgey and other birds dart across the pale blue sky, squeezing his girlfriend's soft hands tightly.

"So . . ." Misty sang harmlessly, drawing Ash's attention. "Are you gonna give me a kiss before we go back in?"

Ash frowned playfully. "Is that what you wanted to bring me out here for?"

Misty feigned an exasperated sigh. "Well, if you weren't so afraid of kissing in front of others, Mr. Big Shot, I wouldn't have to."

"Hey, come on. I'm finally comfortable with kissing in front of Brock," he rejoined.

"Yeah, and Brock is quite comfortable with _watching_ us kiss, too," Misty narrowed her eyes.

"Come on! Gary's in there! And now my parents are, too."

"Are you ever going to admit that we kiss to your parents, Ash?"

"Sure," he replied. "When I'm twenty."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Well, no one's looking now. So you don't have to worry, okay?"

"Why do you wanna kiss me now?"

"Because you're cute."

It sounded too good to pass up. Then again, Ash was hardly the fidgety kid he had been weeks ago, when just the word "kiss" made him want to run away screaming. He threw a quick glance at the backdoor to see that, indeed, the coast was clear. Surely there was time for a nice short kiss, and he delivered just that. Or he began to. After just a few seconds of the kiss, he suddenly disregarded that it was to be short, and Misty seemed to fall into the same trance as well. 

The wail of the screen door flying open, sadly, was not enough time for them to break apart and pretend they were doing nothing. Both their hearts leaped to their throats as their heads spun in its direction. 

"Now I have seen _everything_," Gary exclaimed, a smile shooting across his face.

"Hey!" Ash turned crimson as Misty stifled a giggle. "Mind your own business, Gary!"

"Ash, shhh," Misty said, trying to pacify him with her chipper tone. Ash, out of pure mortification, just shot daggers at Gary with his eyes.

"Mind my own business?" returned Gary airily, shrugging. "You're in the _backyard!_ I'm sorry if I didn't see a 'do not disturb' sign hanging on the doorknob! Since when do I have to knock to come outside?"

Ash just snarled, but Misty, who went on to pat his shoulders buoyantly, laughed at Gary's humor. "Well," she said, resigned, "guess he knows now too, doesn't he, Ash?"

"Mmm," Ash had no other choice but to consent, though a bit begrudgingly.

"Just be glad it wasn't your mom," she snickered.

Ash nodded, but truth of the matter, he would have rather it been her than Gary. At least she would have found it (he hoped) cute and sweet, but Gary—Ash didn't even want to know how he was taking this new revealing. He was almost afraid to look at Gary when he spoke again.

"I just came out to tell your Ashy boy-toy here his dinner's going to be done in a minute," Gary told Misty.

"_Ashy_ _boy-toy!?_" Ash shrieked, but his outcry was instantly outmatched by Brock's.

"Ash!" his voice suddenly bellowed from inside the house. "The timer's going off! Get in here before your mom starts making the gravy!"

"Or now," Gary chuckled. "But, you know, I don't want to be _disturbing_ anything . . ."

Ash shook his head, but quickly decided that Gary's discovery, just like Brock's, was inevitable from the start. It wasn't worth getting flustered over. "Just—be quiet about it, would ya?" he begged of his grinning friend.

And just in the nick of time, too. Delia came to the door at that moment. "Honey, what are you doing out here? Come on, you have to make your gravy. And don't listen to what Brock says, I promise I won't touch it. _If_ you come in."

His blush fading, Ash smiled. "I know. I'm coming, Mom."

His mother disappeared back into the house, and Gary followed. He was sure to flash them a wink before doing so, sealing, to Ash's relief, the promise to keep his mouth shut. Gary understood Ash's concern precisely, that coming from a long history of the small but never serious secrets the two shared. 

Ash smiled as he took hold of Misty's hand and started back to the house. There was something about being next to her and the fact that his childhood friendship was rekindling that made him undeniably dizzy.

"I kinda like that, actually," Misty said. Ash opened the door, but both paused in the doorway. Immediately the smell of his soon-to-be-proven savory dinner floated to their noses. 

"Like what?"

Misty smirked impishly. "Ashy boy-toy. It has a nice ring to it."

Ash's face fell. "You're kidding, right?"

"Maybe," she teased. "It _is_ cute."

"No it's not!" Ash argued.

"Well, then I'll think of another nickname for you."

"How 'bout no nickname, thank you?"

"Well, now that I'm thinking of nicknames, plain Ash sounds so boring."

"My name is boring!?"

"Ooh, I'll call you Ashton," she raised her eyebrows fiendishly.

Ash scowled. "Don't you _dare!_ Then I'll call _you_ Mis—ty."

"Haha!" Misty reveled, sticking her pointed finger in his face. "You can't call me anything more! _Ashton_."

He growled at her, but considering that she was about to adopt a nickname Gary coined, the latter didn't sound that bad. "Fine, you can call me that," he conceded. "Not all the time, though. And not in that _tone_, okay?"

"Okay, my little Ashy boy-toy!" She gave him a clutching hug.

Ash slapped his forehead. It was a shame he was too easy to tease.

"Ash!" This was Delia. "Why are you standing there with the door open? You're letting bugs in!"

"It was Misty," Ash pointed at her accusingly.

Misty's jaw dropped, but her lips curved with a grin. "_Me!?_"

"Yes, you," Ash retorted as the two scampered in and the door slammed shut behind them.

"Why would _I_ want to let bugs in?"

"Don't worry, Misty. You think I believe him for one second?" Delia snorted. She handed Ash the oven mitt. "Come on, mister, get your roast out."

"Yeah, I'm starving here, where's this so-called dinner you made?" Jay asked, wandering back into the kitchen.

"Shut up!" Ash stamped his foot playfully. "It's coming, it's coming." 

He opened the oven and was greeted with a mighty blast of heat. Pikachu, hearing the oven open, rushed in from the living room to get a glimpse of the dinner. Ash nearly tripped over his scrambling Pokémon and laughed, setting the roast on the top of the stove.

"You want me to cut that, bud?" Jay offered. "You can make the gravy, and that way none of it will get cold."

Ash looked up and smiled. "Sure!"

While Jay set to work in slicing the meat and Ash carefully drained the pan of the juices, Brock set to the task of establishing the place settings and pouring drinks. Gary, under no one's influence, rushed to the living room to change the still-thumping rock to music more appropriate for dinner. The stove became the source of a crowd, though one very well organized by Delia: she, with the help of Misty, emptied the potatoes and vegetables into corresponding dishes whilst not getting in either of the guys' way. The delightful sights and smells of the meal made their mouths water, their stomachs grumble. Ash, who had purposely not eaten much beforehand, could especially not wait to eat.

But, moments later, his appetite became the last thing on his mind as he carried his roast beef to the table where his family and friends were just getting seated. He paused, the steam from the meat warming his face, and his eyes roamed indulgently over the camaraderie in his midst.

His parents, fatigued but cheerful, enjoyed the comfort of being home but still were not done enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. His mom sipped her wine as his dad stood at the opposite end of the table, surveying the passing-around of food. And in all that time, their eyes never stopped traveling to meet one other's.

Gary, the person he scorned only days before, the person he never thought or cared he'd see again, sat pleasantly at the table as he did many a time years before; a welcomed scene from the past. Only this time with a Pikachu at his feet, basking in the sudden attention from his trainer's ex-rival.

Across the table sat Brock, whom he had grown to appreciate more for his ability to do the toilsome job of cooking for him and Misty, and after long, hard days no less. (Ash found that even at home after a moderately lazy day, cooking was very much a chore of dedication.) He was spooning out a huge pile of mashed potatoes for himself with eyes glistening of hunger. It was much the same look Ash attained when eating Brock's food. 

And Misty. Looking at her at that moment, with Togepi on her lap, her pretty white teeth shining from behind a coquettish smile as Brock dished her out potatoes, he couldn't describe the upwelling of happiness in his body. The seat next to her called out to him, beckoning, luring. Just to have her near him, lean against him; just to hear her voice, watch her eat. He used to think Pokémon training gave him the most rewarding sense of fulfillment in his life. But he found another way that month. He was in love.

"Come on, Ash! We want meat!"

Ash didn't know when he would return to the road to complete the journey that, he discovered, was only a part of what he yearned for in life. Everything he desired, everything he craved, everything he aspired to, everything he cherished, was here before him. And as he set the meat down, watching his family and friends light up and give him the most gratifying, approving beams, there was no denying it. He was in heaven.

STAY TUNED FOR THE EPILOGUE!

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Wow, updating again after only a week. Brings back memories. ;_;

Author's notes, author's notes…hmmmm. Would you believe I really don't know what to say right now? ^^;; Other than the fact that…I'm looking up at the beginning of this chapter, and…it's chapter 22. **Twenty. Two.** I thought this story was going to be 15 chapters when I first planned it out. And the real crazy thing is…BH could've been longer. If I had made the chapters shorter, who knows what chapter number this would be right now. I don't know how my writing went so out of control for this, but…I'm glad it did. ^_^ I'm happy I could share it with all of you for a year. And although, out of all my stories, this one proved the most difficult, the most stressful, and, at one point, a huge source of emotional pain…I'm proud of it more than anything else I've written.

And lookie at that, I still have the epilogue to post. ^_^ I want to have it up on Thanksgiving, but…I can't promise anything. I wish I could, but the only thing I **can** promise is that it will be written and it will be posted. And that I think you're gonna like it. ~_^

Thanks for reading!


	23. Epilogue

****

Blue Heaven

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By Spruceton Spook

Epilogue

Time dragged painstakingly by, each tick of the large wall-clock above his head resounding piercingly in his ears. His neck and back ached from the sitting position he had nearly been cemented in for hours; getting up and walking about granted relief for only a few moments before his knees grew shaky, and he would have to set himself down again. His throat was scratchy, parched, but his lips were moist and sore from the incessant pressure his teeth exerted on them. He was hungry, too. Famished. He hadn't eaten since the night before, and on normal occasions probably wouldn't have eaten for another few hours, but the constant wave of worry invading his brain and the torturous waiting—the tedious hours upon tedious hours—were working his stomach up into a growling pit of demand. And he was hot. Stripping down to his undershirt provided only minimal comfort in the stuffy, dull white room, but despite how much he craved to exit out into the crisp air of the early April morning, there was no way he was going to miss the announcement he'd been awaiting for over three hours, much less the last nine months.

It wasn't that he minded being there. After all, it was undoubtedly a happy atmosphere. Though it was very early in the morning, the floor was as bustling as ever. Nurses were scurrying about, doctors were strolling eagerly down the halls past the waiting room, summons were constantly being blared over the intercom. It was the hospital, yes, a place Ash had been a few times in his life for unpleasant circumstances, but it was different now. With nail-biting anticipation, day in and day out he wondered when he'd find himself here, amidst all this commotion, surrounded by walls splattered with the images of pink and blue bunnies, eager for that one special announcement.

"Are you Ash?"

At the sound of his name, Ash was abruptly broken from his trance. His head whipped around, his eyes round as saucers.

"Yeah," he answered shakily, jumping to his feet as a pretty, young nurse walked spryly into the waiting room. Her warm smile did nothing to pacify his beating heart, and immediately, the restless questions poured from his lips.

"Is she all right? Did she have it? What is it, what is it?"

The nurse gave way to giggles and waved her hands around. "No, no, it's not here yet. But yes, your mom is fine. She's almost there actually. It shouldn't be long now. That's why I came to fetch you."

"Fetch me?" echoed Ash.

"You bet," she replied. She gestured him to follow. "Come with me. I'll take you to the room."

His eyes grew even wider. "You mean I can see her?" he squeaked, incredulous.

"Yup, you sure can! She's been asking for you for hours."

Ash couldn't believe this. He was going to see his mom! Happiness shot through him, and in an instant his anxiety lifted. For the last three hours, he had been dying to see her, wondering if she was okay, how far she was along, if she was in too much pain, if the birth was occurring as he was actually sitting there thinking about it—wondering, wondering, wondering. Now he didn't have to wonder anymore. A smile invading his face, he quickly spun to grab his sweatshirt and jacket, and rushed to the nurse's side.

"Ash!"

He and the nurse simultaneously halted, and Ash turned to see Misty and Brock striding swiftly up the hall, their hands overflowing with cups and food from the cafeteria. In all the excitement, he had almost forgotten that his friends had left to grab some early breakfast, and seeing them now made his nerves quicken all the more.

"What happened?" Misty asked, her pace increasing. "Did she have the baby?" Her voice was just as high-pitched in ado as Ash's.

"No, not yet," Ash replied, breathless. "Almost! I'm going to see her now."

"You're going to see her!? Oh my God!" Misty squealed. She hopped on her toes excitedly, causing the hot cocoa from one of the cups to spill through the poor plastic cover.

"Misty! Watch what you're doing!" Brock scolded, taking the dripping cup from her by clutching it between the two wrapped bagels he held in each hand.

"Oops, sorry! I'm just so excited! This is great!"

"Me, too! I know!" Ash beamed giddily. "I can't wait to see her. I don't know when I'm gonna be back."

"All right. There's a bagel here waiting for you," Brock said, holding up the said item. "And a cocoa, but don't expect it to be hot."

"Okay," Ash laughed. "You can drink my cocoa, I don't care. I just want to go see her."

"Tell Mom I'm thinking about her," Misty said, stepping forward to land a quick kiss on his lips. "Wish her good luck for me!"

"I will," Ash said. Now that his friends had returned, he hastily threw his clothes back on the seat and started off with the nurse, who smiled a farewell to the elated, waving teenagers.

"Your friends seem just as excited as you," the nurse noted as she led him away. "Or shall I say friend and girlfriend?"

"Friend and girlfriend," Ash affirmed.

"Ahhh. That's so great that they're here. You guys must really be close."

"Yeah, we are," he replied. "We're all like family."

"Yeah, your mom's been talking about you guys sitting out there, how much she misses you. Like all three of you are her kids!"

Ash laughed. "It's practically gotten to that."

In a matter of seconds due to their swift gait, they were well on their way down the maternity ward corridor. Ash had not been down this hall, and took in the new surroundings with bright, enthusiastic eyes.

"I'm Megan, by the way," the nurse introduced herself. "I'm one of your mom's nurses. You're also going to meet Jaime; she's the other nurse. She's with your mom right now, and I'm hoping," she said with a silly cringe, "Dr. Mazzei is, too. He's the doctor who's going to be doing the delivery, which should be really soon. Are you excited?"

"Yeah, I'm really excited!"

"All right! Bet you've been waiting for this for a long time. Hoping for a boy, aren't ya? Have a little brother to play with?"

Ash shrugged. "I don't really care. I wouldn't mind if it were a girl."

"Awww, yeah, girls are fun. She'll have a nice, strong brother to look after her. She'll adore you," Megan grinned, giving Ash a nudge.

"I hope so," he blushed.

As they passed rows of closed doors in the mostly unoccupied hallway, Ash's heart sped up, wondering which one his mother was behind. The walk had not been long so far, but once again, he was growing impatient. After the hectic rush to the hospital seven and a half hours ago, and having to say good-bye to his mother quite suddenly as she entered the first stage of intense labor, the times he had missed her during his Pokémon journey were nothing compared to this.

Finally, Megan approached a closed door, opened it, and ushered Ash inside. His stomach clenching, he sprang in spiritedly, half-expecting to see his mom right away. Instead, he found himself in a sort of medical supply room. At once, his face fell, a look Megan discerned knowingly.

"No, your mom's not in here," she giggled, placing a hand on his shoulder while she flipped on the sink beside him. "We need to get you all ready before you go in there. You're assisting in the delivery, you know."

"What?" Ash gasped.

Megan burst into laughter and clapped her hands. "I'm just kidding! Of course you're not. But you're gonna watch, what do you think about that?"

Staring at her, Ash asked inaudibly, "I'm going to watch my mom have the baby?"

With a gleam in her eyes, Megan nodded. "You sure are. It's what your mom's wanted all night. Never stopped asking if you could come in. Wouldn't _shut up_ about it. So we had to come get you when it was about time."

"Which is _now?_"

"Which is now."

Ash's stomach fluttered, both from the fact that his mom was nearing delivery time and the prospect of actually witnessing the event. He had pictured how this night would unfold many a time, but never had he actually imagined himself _in the delivery room_. Immediately, he began to panic, but despite his nervousness, there was no way he would turn down such an opportunity. Especially when he was aching to see his mother so badly.

"All right, so we have to get you all cleaned up," the nurse told him. "We asked your mom and dad all this, but I want to make sure: you're all washed, right?"

Quickly snapping back to attention, Ash cleared his throat and smiled. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I took a shower before I went to bed. Washed my hair and everything. I'm all clean." He neglected to mention the sweat he had worked up during the long delay in that stifling waiting room, but he figured it didn't make a difference.

"And you're all healthy right now? Don't have a cold?"

"Nope."

"Not in the process of getting one? You don't feel one coming on? Stuffy nose, sore throat?"

"Uh-uh," Ash shook his head.

"You sure?" she arched a playfully suspicious eye at him.

Grinning, Ash nodded. "Positive!"

"Good, good, good," Megan replied. "I'm sorry about the questions, but we have to make sure."

"No problem."

"All right, I want you to grab that soap there—see it? Grab that and wash your hands and your arms all the way up to the elbow for all they're worth. Ya got it?"

By this time, Ash's excitement level was at its max. "Got it!" he replied, bounding to the sink and snatching the bar of soap on the side. He ran his hands under the hot water and lathered them up, scrubbing them like there was no tomorrow.

In the meantime, Megan began rummaging through a pile of hospital scrubs above his head. Her brow furrowed as she pulled out a few sets, then stuffed them back in.

"Hmmm, gotta find a shirt for you here. We don't seem to have many expectant fathers your size. In fact, we never really have _anyone_ your size coming into the delivery room."

"You mean a lot of kids don't get to do this?" Ash asked. He shut the sink off and held his dripping hands over the basin.

"Not really, no," she shook her head as she continued to rifle through the clothes. Her golden-brown bangs fell into her eyes, and she brushed them away with a quick stroke. "Usually it's just the father who comes in, and sometimes the grandparents. We don't like to have kids come in because, you know, they aren't always exactly perfect pictures of health, and childbirth really isn't something they'd find appealing." She laughed. "But your mom's so insistent. She wants you in there. Oh, sorry, paper towels're over there."

Ash smiled thoughtfully as he wiped his hands dry, realizing the rare privilege he was being given. He was speechless, imagining what it was going to be like. He had seen deliveries on TV, and wondered if his mom's would be anything like them. But now he wouldn't have to wait to find out how she made it through the delivery. He would _be_ there to see it for himself. The expectation sent a chill up his spine.

"Ahh, here we go!"

Ash's eyes flicked back to Megan as she yanked out a light-blue shirt. She unfolded it, then pursed her lips distrustfully.

"Well, it still might be a bit big, but it'll do." She handed the shirt to Ash. He could instantly tell it was too big for him, but he wasn't going to complain. "Just slip that on over your head."

"Okay," Ash replied, taking the shirt and pulling it over his head in one motion. The way he thrust his arms through the sleeves hurriedly made Megan laugh.

"Calm down! You don't have to rush. Trust me, it's going to be a few moments before your mom has the baby. You're not going to miss anything."

Ash straightened his tousled hair and smiled embarrassingly. "Oh. I—I wasn't rushing, I just—I thought your said she's almost there . . ."

"Oh, well, she's definitely near delivery time," Megan explained, leading them back out into the hall again. Ash tagged behind restively, feeling special and entitled in his new hospital garb.

"Last I saw her, she was only beginning to push," she went on. "It's gonna take a bit, though. Can't have the baby out in one push, you know."

Ash looked up. "Oh, so you mean she's fully dilated?"

The inquiry almost made Megan stop dead in her tracks. "_Pardon me?_" she faltered with a chuckle, gawking at him in shock. "How do you know about that?"

Sensing how surprising his extended knowledge was to her, Ash blushed and shrugged modestly. "I've kinda been studying it," he admitted. "I wanted to know everything about it so that I knew what my mom would be going through."

Megan's jaw was still dropped, but her smile was wide. "And here I am thinking your mind's going to be blown away with everything you see! Does your mom know about this?"

"Yeah," replied Ash. "She taught me most of the stuff. I asked her a lot of questions, and she told me everything. I even went to the Lamaze classes with her a few times."

"Oh my God! You're a heck of a lot more into this than I thought you were!" exclaimed Megan.

"Sure am," Ash giggled affirmatively. In truth, it had been close to an obsession for the past months.

"And _how_ old are you?"

"Twelve."

Megan was flabbergasted. "Twelve! And you've been to _Lamaze classes?_ Holy mackerel!"

Ash's face ached from his giddy smile as they made their way down what seemed like a never-ending hallway. Seeing Megan's disbelief made him feel proud; after all, it was true that not many twelve-year-olds knew the basic stages of child labor in great detail. He had been one of those unfamiliar twelve-years-olds, but it seemed that only days after discovering his mother was expecting, Ash was wild about learning everything he could. It was as though the only thing he did not yet know about Delia's pregnancy was the sex of the baby itself.

It was getting more crowded and busy in this part of the ward, inducing Ash's heart to speed up. Somehow, the swarms of nurses and personnel made it feel like his mother was near. His stomach got worked up again, his legs like rubber. What was he going to see in there? 

Suddenly, he recalled more of what he had seen on TV—how agonizing the ordeal was for some mothers. Did he want to watch his mom go through that? Excitement swiftly and unexpectedly turned to doubt, to apprehension. He was overall nervous, this he knew, but something else was stirring him worriedly, something that all at once made him hope that his mom's room was not close. He looked down at his blue hospital shirt, which clashed horribly with his red flannel lounging pants, and it all became reality. He was here, and it was going on now, and he was going to be part of it. There was no turning back because, frankly, as much as this was suddenly bothering him, no feeling was strong enough to deny him from seeing his mom.

Before he knew it, Megan drifted to a closed door and grabbed the knob. A chill shot through Ash, causing him to visibly shudder, but a huge smile accompanied it.

"Here we go," she whispered enticingly, pushing the door open just enough to allow Ash to slip through. Hesitating immediately, he entered the room, dragging his feet laboriously and drawing his head deep into his shoulders.

"Go in, it's okay," the nurse prodded him gently, and Ash, shyly, did. Oddly enough, the room was quiet, which almost made him more leery to go in. But Megan trying to get into the room and back to her task edged him in, and within a matter of seconds, the room's arousing scene was brought swiftly to his consciousness.

It appeared as a normal hospital room, but Ash cared nothing to inspect the inanimate milieu. He focused no more time on the other nurse and doctor who lifted their heads at his arrival, and his father was nothing but a fleet blur. The chief and only interest he held was for his mom, and right away, his eyes raced to find her. There she was, just where he knew she'd be, but for a second—and that of which made him rather uncomfortable—he didn't recognize her. 

Ash almost stopped dead in his tracks as he tried to make sense of the sight of his laboring mother. What made it all the more difficult was the fact that she was not greeting him the way he had imagined—she wasn't even looking at him at all. Shuffling his way forward, Ash observed Delia sheepishly. He took in her glazed face, her stringy, greasy-like hair plastered to her head. She was laying back against a mountain of pillows, her eyes shut in sheer exhaustion, her one hand gripping the rail along the side of the bed. Her large belly, the same he had rested his head against countless times to try to hear the little person within, was outstanding, a mountain beneath a white sheet.

It wasn't her. At least, it didn't seem like her. But it _was_ her, of course, though in a way Ash had never seen before. Sure, in a comparative sense she looked the way she did right out of a pool, but in those instances, the current pain that was written clearly in her creased brow was never present. She was emitting no sound, but Ash knew without a doubt that didn't mean a thing as to how she felt.

"Look who's here!" Megan suddenly chimed, startling Ash. His gaze was ripped from his mother as he could feel all the attention turn on him.

"Hey, buddy!" Jay welcomed lively. "You made it!"

"Hi, Dad," Ash waved timidly. Even though it was his father speaking to him, he still felt awkward. He stopped just a few feet from Delia's bed and withdrew himself further, looking back at his mom.

The announcement had alerted Delia, and now she was returning the gaze. Ash smiled gingerly as he watched a fatigued yet utterly happy smile lift his mom's flushed face.

"Hi, baby," she whispered weakly. Her eyes were red—she had been crying. "You came."

Ash swallowed, slightly uneasy from her appearance and sluggish voice, but at the same time relieved he was finally beside her again. "Hi, Mommy," he whispered back.

"So are you the Ash we've been hearing about all night?"

Brought abruptly from the brief reunion, it was now that Ash looked at the doctor directly. Right away a smile was brought to his face at the sight of the jaunty man standing at the base of his mother's bed. He was a young doctor, and the grin that was stretching his cheeks to their extreme was practically contagious.

"Ash," Megan said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Mazzei. And the nurse standing next to him there is Jaime," she pointed accordingly.

Jaime, another young nurse, waved enthusiastically, and Ash could tell she was smiling widely behind her facemask. In one quick glance, Ash became aware that the mood in the room was a buoyant one, easing his nerves substantially.

"Well, it's about time you finally came!" Dr. Mazzei exclaimed. "But where's the booze? I don't see no booze! What do you think you can do, just waltz into the party without supplying the booze?"

"Huh?" It took a second for Ash to realize the doctor was kidding. "Oh. No, I didn't bring any, sorry," he laughed.

Dr. Mazzei rolled his eyes in playful irritation. "Of course not! Ahhh, it's no big deal, though; I'm just glad you're finally here! Maybe you can get your mom to go and have this baby already! We're tired and wanna go home!"

Ash giggled, immediately loving Dr. Mazzei's sense of humor. "I'll try," he quickly joined in.

"Good, good! She kept threatening to hold it in if we didn't let ya come in!" the doctor shook his head. "How 'bout that, huh!"

His smile helplessly broad, Ash turned back to his mother. "Mom, you gotta have the baby," he encouraged, not just from Dr. Mazzei's request but his own expectancy as well.

"Don't worry, she will," his dad supplied happily. Jay was dressed in scrubs similar to Ash's, though he donned a complete set in gray, and he had his own facemask, which he was not wearing. His hand was woven tightly with Delia's, and had been for the last few hours.

"Oh, trust me, yes I will," Delia avowed, her voice gaining some base in order to make it sound determined. "I want to have it _now_."

"See what I told you?" Jay added.

"I can't wait!" Ash hopped, his excitement flourishing. The crowd laughed in chorus, Delia contributing only frailly.

"Oh Ash, I'm so happy you're here," she said breathlessly. She held out her hand and Ash rushed to grab it, overjoyed.

"I'm happy, too, Mom," he replied almost giddily. "I missed you!"

"You missed me?" she chuckled. "Awww. Come here." She motioned for him to near so that she could kiss him. Ash squirmed pleasantly as her sweaty face brushed against his cheek. She was so warm he could feel the heat radiating from her inches away.

"How do you feel?" he asked delicately.

Delia huffed. "Like I'm dying." She emphasized it just then as she shut her eyes and bunched her face painfully, letting out a sharp whimper. It was her first contraction in over fifteen minutes.

Ash could see her discomfort, but squeezed her hand reassuringly nonetheless. "Aw, Mom, don't say that!" he soothed. "You're not dying. You're fine!"

"Ah, isn't it great!" Dr. Mazzei proclaimed, clapping Megan on the back. "You did good bringing him, Meg! He's just the encouragement we need! Now we'll probably be delivering this baby within the next year and a half!"

"Hopefully sooner," Megan said, putting her facemask on and straightening her hair.

"Hopefully sooner!" Delia agreed fervently but through clenched teeth, as the contraction had not yet ended. "C-can I push again?"

"Darling, I never told you you had to stop," sang Dr. Mazzei, massaging her knee to ease her through the pain. "That's what you're here for."

"Hey, Ash," Megan said, her crafty smile hidden behind the mask. "Why don't you ask Dr. Mazzei the question you asked me?"

Instantly, Ash's face was crimson. "No, no," he declined embarrassingly.

"Nah, go ahead!" prodded Megan. "It's okay! It was a great question!"

"Nooo," Ash whined, his blush deepening as he buried his face in his hand. He didn't expect this to come up again! Quickly, he regretted even mentioning it to Megan, regardless of how proud he had felt earlier.

"What do you wanna know, Ash?" Dr. Mazzei asked. "I know Megan here knows nothing, so maybe I can actually be helpful and give you the answer." That earned him a swat on the shoulder from the nurse.

"What did you ask, sweetie?" Delia choked, amused to know. She was out of breath again, momentarily baring through the brutal contraction.

"Yeah?" Jay asked.

Ash knew he was stuck. He was even impelled to fabricate a new question on the spot, but he knew Megan would rat him out. Wondering how brightly red his face was becoming, he took a tiny breath.

"Is my mom fully dilated yet?"

"Whoa!" the doctor cried as the others burst into laughter, though not mockingly. "Would ya listen to that! The things kids know today! I'm impressed! How much more do you know, bucko?"

Ash just shrugged modestly, and Jay spoke up.

"He knows more than you would think," he boasted. Ash felt his mom shake his hand, and looking down to find her flashing him a praising smile.

"Is that so?" said Dr. Mazzei.

"He wanted to know things, so we told him," Jay smiled.

"Awesome!" Dr. Mazzei nodded. "Well, then, Ash, let's see just how much you really know. Tell me, do you know what an epidural is?" He arched his eyebrows in high hopes as Ash bit his lip.

"Ummm," he thought out loud. "Isn't that like a pain killer or something?" he ventured.

Eyes widening, Dr. Mazzei snapped his finger. "Righto!" he congratulated, and Ash promptly beamed. "And that's _exactly_ what your mother has refused all night, the brave lady she is! Can you believe it? Aren't you proud of her?"

"I want to be able to feel my legs!" Delia panted.

"I've been hearing that _all night_ from her," Dr. Mazzei grumbled kiddingly, pointed at her. 

"Well I _do!_" 

Dr. Mazzei snorted. "That, along with wanting to have you in here," he told Ash. "And now I can see why! She's been wanting to upstage me, that's what she's been wanting!"

Ash laughed, and the doctor took a contented breath.

"But the answer to your question, Ash, is yes. Your mother is fully dilated—has been for a while—and if I were her, I'd start to get to some serious pushing business."

"You hear that, Mom? You have to push some more!" Ash turned to her excitedly.

"Oh, yay," Delia replied, intentionally unconvincing. Jay chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"Ah, don't talk like that, my sweet," Dr. Mazzei said. "This is what you've been waiting all night for! And you've been doing fabulously so far; you're gonna have no problem with this, I know it. Don't you think your mom can get through this, Ash?"

"Sure I do! Mom can do anything," Ash grinned, the pace of excitement beginning to pick up. Squeezing his mom's hand reassuringly, he gave her a confident smile, one she tried desperately to match.

"Thanks, sweetheart," she said. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "I can I do it. I—I just . . . I'm just not looking forward to it."

"I know it's not going to be fun," said Dr. Mazzei sympathetically, "but think, in just a few moments you're gonna have a beautiful, brand-new little baby." He gave her a brilliant smile, which brightened Delia's face instantly. "You're gonna see your baby, and you're gonna get to hold your baby, and it's going to be alllll over and everything's gonna be fine. You've done this before. You got through it the first time, so you can get through it again—flying colors. All right?"

Delia nodded, though there was still a bit of reluctance amidst her underlying anticipation.

"I just want to you to breathe, take it easy, relax. It'll be over before you know it, I promise. It's all gonna be worth it. Okay?"

"Okay," Delia shakily smiled.

Ash watched as his mother took Dr. Mazzei's advice intently. Now more situated, he was beginning to acutely detect the true severity of the pain and how nervous his mother was. The way she was breathing was just as she had been instructed in the Lamaze classes, but now he could see its purpose. Her sweaty hand clamping onto his, he felt each time the discomfort intensified, and was fiercely concerned. Ash knew she was all right, but deep-down there was no denying that he wished to see her out of this misery, though necessary as it was, as soon as possible.

"All right then!" Dr. Mazzei clapped his hands once eagerly. Seriousness was now aside; it was back to the fun. "Here we go! Tell me, Delia, does it feel like that baby of yours wants to come?"

Eyes widening, Delia nodded rabidly. "Ohhhhh, yes. It has been _forever_."

"Excellent! That's just what I want to hear. See, Ash, that's what I love about no epidural. We're making progress!"

"All right!" Ash cheered.

Dr. Mazzei turned back to Delia. "So then, we gotta listen to that little one now, don't we? If it wants to come, then we're gonna let it come! Are ya with me?" 

"Oh my God . . ." Delia groaned, reality setting in.

Jay took her head close to his cheek, and rocked her slightly. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered in her ear. "You can do it; I love you."

"I love you, too," whimpered Delia, but returning her husband's gestures was the last thing on her mind. Nervousness was quickly replaced with pure fear, and Ash shuddered at this.

"Mom, just remember the exercises from the class," he reminded her. "Remember the way you were told to breathe when you're having the baby."

He was relieved to see a small smile perk on his mother's lips. "I will, Ash, I will," she replied. "Jay, water?"

"Of course," Jay replied, releasing her hand for a moment to fetch the tall glass of ice water on the bedside table. 

Delia took a refreshing swig before bringing the cool glass shakily to her forehead. Ash's throat tightened, in need of the liquid, but there was no way he was going to take his mother's drink. Instead, he smiled as he watched her, figuring to make his thirst only a stronger sign of his sympathy for her.

"All right, Delia my love," Dr. Mazzei purred as Jay took the glass from her. He grabbed the facemask dangling around his chin and slipped it over his mouth and nose. "We want those contractions now, don't we? There aren't gonna be many, but the next time you get one I want you to give me a great, big push right along with it. You can do that."

Ash and Jay let out a laugh as Delia rolled her eyes, smiled pitifully, and nodded.

"And you listen to me now," the doctor continued to advise. "If you feel you need to push, do not go against it. You're gonna listen to your body, and you're gonna listen to your little one, and this is going to be over before you know it."

"No it's not," moaned Delia in reply.

"Yes, it is," sang Dr. Mazzei. "You're so close, don't you _dare_ give up on me now. We're gonna have that baby here within half an hour, whaddah ya say?"

Delia responded with more raspy whimpers, "Kill me."

"No, no, no, my dear, we don't do that here. This is a hospital. We don't particularly like killing people. What _you're_ going to do is the exact opposite. And you're gonna _love_ it."

Even Ash knew that wasn't the most precise prediction of what this would entail, but he knew what Dr. Mazzei was doing. Being told the plain truth of what the ordeal would be like wouldn't make _him_ enthused. He felt a bit sorry for his mom, but swiftly tried to maintain Dr. Mazzei's attitude, the one that _needed_ to be more focused on in order to deal with what was to come.

And just thinking about that got Ash's stomach doing somersaults again. In no time at all, he was going to meet his new little brother or sister. It was still something too wondrous to comprehend. All his life he had dreamed about this moment, and even now it still felt that way—like a dream.

"All right, Ash, this is what I want you to do," Megan said from across the room. "Just stay where you are right by your mom. She's needs your support, okay? We got everything covered over here," she laughed. "Just keep talking to her and getting her through this. After all, I'm sure you learned a thing or two from Lamaze."

Ash giggled. "I sure did." In fact, he knew all of Delia's exercises by heart. He looked down at his mother, who was laying back against the pillows, her eyes shut tiredly. Though he had dozens of questions to ask her, he allowed her to rest.

He didn't know how long he stood there listening to the nurses converse and arrange with Dr. Mazzei, but without warning, another contraction overtook his mother. Delia bolted straight up, letting out the loudest yell he'd heard from her yet. It wasn't the sharp ring in his ears that startled him the most, however; it was the savage clench of his mother's hand on his own, tighter than he could ever imagine. The sudden pain gripped him greatly, but he skewed his eyes and held back the own yelp in this throat. He wasn't supposed to be the one showing discomfort here.

"Whoooa! Here we go! That baby wants to come, and it's gonna!" Dr. Mazzei proclaimed joyously. 

Delia's thoughts differed, though. "I can't do this!" she bawled, her voice staggering with despair, tossing her head about frantically as she tried to cope with the pain.

"Yes, you can!" the doctor encouraged. "You're a strong girl. Keep breathing. And when you're ready, we're gonna push, all right? We're gonna have that baby here soon!"

Ash, holding his breath from the vise that was his mother's hand, opened one eye and looked at Delia. The way her face was turning beet red upset him. Her scream became muffled as she tried to breathe, and to Ash's relief, her grip lessened. It didn't go away completely, though. Delia remained upright, and quickly Jay recited the breathing technique Ash knew well from Lamaze but was too shocked to relate at that time.

"Relax, relax," Dr. Mazzei said, his voice drifting pleasantly.

"N-no," Delia whined, and Ash's face fell. He felt so sorry for her. "I can't do it. Please. I can't . . ."

"Sure you can, Mom," Ash managed a consoling smile. "You did it with me."

"And she got through that fine," his father put in, his tone just as optimistic as the doctor's. He continued to caress her head as she kept up with her breathing. "She was in labor so much more longer with you. She should be happy that she's already almost there. Aren't ya, honey?"

"NO! Can't it just be over?" Delia panted. "Jay, I can't take it. I can't _take_ it . . ."

Jay looked up and winked at his son. "She's happy. You know it." Ash could beg to differ, but Jay seemed confident.

"Okay, Delia, this is it!" Dr. Mazzei said. "I'm gonna count to three, and you're gonna give me the biggest push yet. Okay?"

Delia didn't answer, but Ash could tell from her expression that she was ready to cooperate.

"I know it hurts," Dr. Mazzei empathized. "But we're working with it. You're gonna take a deep breath on my count and push, all right? We're gonna have this baby here lickety-split! Okay? Look at me, honey. Look at me, look at me. We're doin' this, ready? Okay . . .? One, two, three, deep breath, and _push_."

If Delia's grasp was painful the first time, this time it was down-right torturous. The cry that roared from her lungs didn't make it any better. As the wail pierced Ash's ears, his mother's hand bound fast around his, crunching his fingers with the force to effortlessly make his eyes flare with pain.

"'Atta girl! Very good, very good!" Dr. Mazzei praised her as she slumped back against the pillows. "That was very good! More pushes like that and your little one's gonna be here before we know it!"

Delia's response was nothing but an agonizing sob. Her hold loosened on Ash's hand, and he was able to begin breathing again.

"Ain't this exciting, Ash? Ya ever thought you'd see something like this?"

Ash swiftly turned to Dr. Mazzei. "No," he shook his head. "I mean, I've seen it on TV, but I—I never thought I'd be here."

The doctor smiled warmly. "Your mom's doin' a heckuva lot better than some of those mothers I see on TV. I haven't heard her call your dad a dirty name yet!"

"That's good," Ash laughed.

"Wouldn't be the first time, though," Jay chuckled.

That got Delia's attention. "_Jay!_" she growled incredulously.

"What?" her husband shrugged innocently. "It's true."

Delia just shook her head and forgot about it. Ash was amused.

"Whoa, almost had it right there," Dr. Mazzei cringed playfully. "Guess I spoke too soon. And we got the delivery coming up, too! Oh, boy! May get dirty yet! I'll have to have Jaime over here cover your ears, Ash." 

"'Kay," grinned Ash. "But I've heard them all." This time, his mother's glare was directed on him.

Dr. Mazzei arched his eyes at Delia. "Now, then. You ready to try again?"

Swallowing hard, Delia winced. "I don't know . . ."

"I betcha we can have that baby here in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes! What do you say to that?"

"Fine. Can you wake me when it's over?"

Dr. Mazzei guffawed. "Look at that! Sense of humor minutes before delivery! Ash, she's one of a kind."

Ash was happy to see her give a faint smile at that. The blood was starting to circulate through his fingers again, and even though she was holding his hand loosely now, he made no move to pull away. He was determined to get her through this with earnest support. It was his duty.

Still, when Dr. Mazzei told Delia to take a deep breath and push again, Ash braced himself. This time he willed his eyes to stay open and focus on her instead, realize that the pain she was experiencing must be ten times worse than his. His discomfort did not go unnoticed, though. As Delia howled and struggled through the grueling pushing, Jay took his attention off her long enough to see the uneasiness Ash was displaying so obviously.

"Ash, son, you don't have to hold her hand if you don't want to," he said hurriedly. "If she's hurting you, let go. It's okay."

"No, it's all right," Ash assured, smiling. "I want to."

"But she's hurting you," Jay insisted worriedly. "Come on. Let go, let go."

Before Ash knew it, Delia released his hand and instantly gripped the railing of the bed. "No, Ash. No," she heaved, sounding like she had just completed a marathon. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize—I—I'm sorry. I don't . . . want to break your hand . . ."

"Mama," Ash almost begged, trying to take her hand again unsuccessfully. He couldn't believe she heard their dialogue through her labor. "It's okay. I wanna hold your hand."

"_I wanna hold your haaaand_," Dr. Mazzei began singing. "Right, Ash, don't worry, we gotcha covered. Broken bones: third floor."

Delia turned to Ash and gave him a shaky but gracious smile. "It's okay, sweetheart," she said. "I have enough to worry about right now than hurting you."

"But I don't care if you hurt me," Ash smiled pleadingly back.

"Well, I do," his mother managed a laugh. "Just be next to me, Ash, that's all I need. I know you're here. Okay? Just be here with me."

Ash wanted more. It was so difficult to see her suffer; experiencing the pain, if only a fraction of hers, made him feel better. It meant they were doing it together. Just standing beside her made him feel like an audience. He didn't want that. What made it any different than the births he had watched on TV?

But he didn't want to give his mom any extra worries, either. "Okay," he gave in quietly.

"Good boy," she whispered, shutting her eyes and taking a moment to relax before the next push.

Ash was still disappointed, and looked up at his father. He motioned to her hand with an unhappy frown, but Jay shook his head. Then with a smirk, he reached over to tousle his hair.

"What do you think, squirt?"

Ash gave a confused, lopsided smile. "About . . .?"

"What do you think Mommy's having?"

"If you know, don't tell me," Delia muttered, her eyes still closed.

Everyone laughed. Ash glanced at Dr. Mazzei, who held up his hands. "Don't look at me—I deliver 'em, but I can't predict 'em."

"Um . . ." Ash thought. "A baby?"

Jay chuckled. "Good answer, smart-mouth."

"Well, I for one hope that's what your mom's having," Dr. Mazzei snorted. "Speaking of which, darling, you ready to push again?"

"No."

"Oh, good! I knew she was ready!"

Begrudgingly, Delia moaned and sat up. Ash smiled at her courage.

"Ready?" asked Dr. Mazzei.

". . . Yeah." She looked down at her round belly as she followed the doctor's instruction.

"Okay, breathe a little. Deep, deep breaths, in, out, in, out. Okay. One, two, three, deep breath, push!"

It was much different to see his mom push without feeling her clutch. Delia took a gulping, lung-full of air before giving it her all. The first endeavor took a few seconds, then she paused to exhale and go at it again. She whimpered with each successive strive, each individual pushing session growing shorter.

"That's it, keep pushing, keep pushing," Dr. Mazzei encouraged. His arms had completely disappeared under the sheet, but Ash heard no baby. All he could hear were Delia's cries. His head flew back and forth between his mother and Dr. Mazzei, watching the two roles work together.

"Very good, Delia, you're doing great. Keep breathing," Megan said, her eyes roaming down every few seconds to see if any progress was being made.

Delia's screams were becoming louder as she continued to push. It was getting harder. Ash had never heard anything like it coming from her before. It reminded him of the time she had dropped a saucer of hot soup on her feet, but even that compared only slightly to this.

"So, Ash, any names picked out for the little one?" Dr. Mazzei suddenly asked.

"Umm," he fumbled, drawing a momentarily blank. They had gone over dozens of names. His parents even had a few bickering matches over them, but they narrowed them down. The middle names weren't a problem from the beginning, though. Delia and Jay promised Ash he could choose the middle name himself (with their approval, of course), which he had no difficulty doing.

Trying the think over his mom's yells, he said, "Uh, if it's a boy, Riley. And if it's a girl, Colleen."

"Good names," Jaime said approvingly.

"Yeah," Ash agreed. "I really like them . . ." He trailed off sheepishly, feeling awkward talking through his mom's travail. He couldn't believe how Dr. Mazzei could even manage listening to him and dealing with the important task that lay in his hands at the same time. If anything, distracting the doctor right now was not a wise move.

Completely depleted of all energy, Delia gave up pushing and fell back. She was still in pain, and the ordeal had once again left her gasping for air.

"All right, another break, but not too long this time, okay?" Dr. Mazzei said. "You're doing a lot more than you think you are."

Delia nodded. "It . . . feels different," she said between pants. "Hurts . . ."

Dr. Mazzei's eyes brightened agreeably. "That's because your baby's on its way down, Delia! A few more good pushes, and it'll be here, I mean it. What do you say? Push again? You're _so_ close."

Though she didn't seem too thrilled with the suggestion, Delia shakily sat up again after a moment's interlude.

"Beautiful! We're gonna have a baby here in seconds! Good girl, that's what I like to see!"

She smiled weakly. "I want my baby."

Dr. Mazzei beamed. "I'm sure you do. And you will. We're gonna do that right now, okay? Ash, you make sure she doesn't give up. We'll be here all night long if she insists on more and more breaks."

"It's morning," Ash pointed out prankishly.

"Yeah, well for me, I feel like I've been up for a week. I have no idea if it's day or night right now," Dr. Mazzei waved it away jokingly. "So I might fall asleep during this thing, I don't know. Don't bother waking me, though; you seem to know a lot about this—you can finish up here, all right?"

"No problem!" Ash pledged.

"And what should I do?" Jay asked.

His eyes widening, Dr. Mazzei put a hand over his heart. "Oh man, I nearly forgot the daddy's here! Look at that, you're upstaging him, too!" he told Ash. "Sorry to tell you this, kid, but I don't know if anyone's gonna like you after tonight."

"Got that right!" Jay nodded, turning to Ash. "You little stinker." He winked at his boy, but Ash was all smiles. He knew his dad was playing around.

Dr. Mazzei then clapped his hands once. "Okay, we gotta get serious now! This baby's probably wondering just what's taking so long."

"It's been wondering for weeks now," Delia said. Her unborn child had been quite a kicker. Ash would sit forever with his hands placed over her stomach, thrilled each time he felt a kick. The baby couldn't be that impatient, though, Ash figured. After all, they were in the hospital now over a week later than Delia's due-date.

"You ready then?" Dr. Mazzei asked. 

Ash nodded, then almost laughed at himself because of it. He knew the doctor had been speaking to his mother, but at the same time he felt it necessary to prepare himself as well. He couldn't believe it; he was going to witness childbirth live. The moment of meeting his sibling for the first time was approaching. And, he also realized, so was the most difficult part for Delia.

Quickly, Ash recited a short prayer for his mom in his mind. He prayed that she got through it easily, that it wasn't too unendurable, and, most importantly, that the baby was healthy. He was ready to ask for his own nerves to calm a bit, but decided that Delia needed the spiritual assistance more than anyone right now.

He threw a glance over at his dad, and discovered that Jay didn't look too relaxed, either. He was breaking into quite a sweat, and his expression dripped trepidation. The only person who seemed carefree about the whole thing was Dr. Mazzei, who very gently, very calmly, as if luring someone into hypnosis, bid Delia to push.

And push she did. At first, she was too occupied with the exertion that barely a sound passed through her lips. Ash was gripping the railing now, too, watching her with keen, worried eyes.

"Good! Beautiful, beautiful!" Dr. Mazzei exulted. "Keep it up, keep it up!"

Finally, the pain caught up to Delia, and she screamed at the top of her lungs. Ash flinched at the distressing sound, and couldn't believe that through it all, Delia kept pushing. She wasn't going to give up.

__

Man, Ash thought, gulping,_ I could never do this . . ._

Meanwhile, Jay was bearing through it as best he could. He never let go of Delia's hand, which amazed Ash. With the way his mother was bellowing, he could just picture her deadly grip. But Jay didn't seem phased. Ash wondered if perhaps Jay couldn't even _feel_ his hand anymore. As Delia pushed, he held her head gently from behind, whispering the breathing technique in the same tone Ash recalled from childhood lullabies.

"C'mon, Delia, give me a good, long push!" Dr. Mazzei requested. "You can do it! You're doing _so_ great!"

With the vigorous encouragement, Delia obliged, her face the color of a ripe tomato. Another cry burst from her throat. Ash just about had tears in his eyes; he couldn't take hearing it anymore. It sounded like his mother was dying, as much as he wanted to put that thought strictly out of his mind. And all the while, he couldn't believe the optimistic, almost cheerful look on Dr. Mazzei's face. He must have done this dozens of times. Ash was awe-struck.

Suddenly, at the end of that excruciating push, the doctor's face illuminated even more. "There we have it! I see a head!" he announced excitedly.

The three Ketchums perked, Delia the most.

"R-r-really?" she choked.

"Yes! And it's a beautiful head, a _beautiful_ head. Come on now, darling, you're there. Take deep breaths! One good push and you're done! The worst is almost over, come on now! One more push!"

The news seemed to stimulate Delia in way Ash saw as nothing less than extraordinary. His heart was racing; his adrenaline circulated his body dynamically. His head snapped back and forth like a wound rubber-band, unwilling to miss a thing. The declaration sent the entire room into motion. Megan and Jaime got increasingly prepared. In her hands, Megan gripped the cloth the baby would be accepted in. 

Ash couldn't believe it. "This is it," he murmured out loud, though no one heard him over the commotion, including Ash himself. But despite the daze he was swept into unexpectedly, every action played before him crisp and clear.

Delia was ready for the hardest push. Through her discomfort, her determination shone through. And it was then that Ash noticed his father had not been lying earlier—she _was_ happy. He had no idea how someone could manage to look so exhilarated through such pain, but his mom was proving it magnificently. It was such an odd thing to recognize and grasp, but nothing short of exceptional.

"Okay, now, push! Give me that push!" Dr. Mazzei cheered.

"Come on, Mom, push, push!" Ash joined in energetically.

With the biggest effort yet, Delia pushed. Her shriek was unlike any other, but as her face constricted, Dr. Mazzei's opened up. Ash held his breath, his body like jelly. Megan and Jaime's smiles grew tremendously. What was happening? Oh, why couldn't he see anything?

"There you go, there you go!" the doctor shouted above her. "Just another push! Just one more!"

Before Ash had a chance to even imagine what was going on, it was all over. Delia gave her last valiant push, and just as her scream ended, another took over. Dr. Mazzei's smile was radiant, and Megan was quickly at hand. An all-too-distinguished, shrill cry suddenly sliced the air, and the three professionals at the foot of the bed let out a whoop of joy.

"Look at this, look at this!" Dr. Mazzei bubbled gleefully, looking down towards the source of the bawling.

Ash froze completely, blinking a few times as he tried to take hold of what had just occurred. His parents had likewise become silent and still.

"Ten fingers, ten toes," the doctor noted perkily but slowly, drawing out the suspense ideally. "_Very_ healthy vocal chords. You have an absolutely beautiful . . ." He smiled as he lifted the crying child into view. ". . . baby boy."

As soon as his eyes focused for the first time on the fidgety, pink baby hoisted for all to see, Ash gasped silently. Completely forgetting about his parents' reactions, he was unable to take his eyes off the child. The tiny, clutching fists; the eyes clenched shut with tears; the small mess of gooey, black hair atop his head; the umbilical cord still intact.

He had a brother. He _was_ a brother.

"Congratulations, darling," Dr. Mazzei beamed at Delia. His words drew Ash's attention, and he instantly turned to his mother. She had once again fallen back against the pillows, thoroughly beat, breathing as if she herself was experiencing the joy of oxygen for the first time like her newborn child. Tears spilled from her swollen eyes.

"You did beautifully," the doctor added, and haggardly, Delia produced a smile.

Ash's gaze lingered momentarily on his mom. He wanted to say something to her, but realized he didn't know the words to use to express what he was feeling. Instead, he just observed. His eyes flooded with tears as Jay rested his head lovingly atop Delia's, his gesture of praise. Delia was too debilitated to respond, but the smile that Dr. Mazzei induced had remained.

"Daddy, would you like to officially bring your son into the world?" Dr. Mazzei asked Jay. Ash smiled as a blush tinted his father's cheeks.

"Sure," he said, shrugging his shoulders like a shy little boy. As he stepped forward to assist with the severing of the umbilical cord, however, his wit returned with one quote. "I'm a pro at this."

"Aren't we all!" Dr. Mazzei replied, giving Jay a hearty slap on the back. Ash was surprised when he then turned to him.

"And would the big brother like to help, too?"

Ash's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Ha! Betcha there's something they didn't teach ya in Lamaze!" the doctor roared with laughter.

Agreeing simply with a smile, Ash shuffled his way timidly towards the end of the bed where Megan was holding the baby in the soft towel. He was still crying, though not as violently as before. Ash's attention was transfixed on his new brother as if by magnetism; Dr. Mazzei clamping the cord and Jaime handing Jay the pair of surgical scissors were scenes only caught out of the corner of his eye.

"Here, Ash, put your hand on top of mine," Jay said gently. Ash finally looked up and smiled.

"Okay," he answered quietly, doing as he was told. Ash cringed as the scissors cut through the umbilical cord, but the slightly disturbing sight took nothing away from the happiness of the baby's initiation into life.

"There we go," sighed the doctor, taking the boy into his arms. Wrapping the cloth around him loosely, Dr. Mazzei turned to give Delia a fond smile.

"Riley, I presume?" he said as made his way to the side of the bed and gently stooped over to hand the crying baby to her.

Still leaking a few tears, Delia reached up to accept the bundle. "Yes," she answered speechlessly. Gazing down at her newborn for the first time, she snuggled him close to her chest, wiggling and fussing though he was. "Riley."

Restless to see his brother, Ash was on his toes as he made his way back to his mom's side. Jay was right along with him, and together, the two leaned over each of Delia's shoulders and peered down at Riley.

For a few moments, none of the three said a word as they watched the baby settle down. Delia simply held Riley in the crook of her arm and stroked his face with her finger, smoothing out his hair, tracing his chin, touching the tip of his nose. She was enthralled and overtaken with love. The soothing manner made Ash's eyes droop, and following her finger, he took in every new sight of his brother's face.

_He's adorable_, he thought, no better description coming to mind.

"Look at this little guy," Jay said quietly. Riley's last whimpers died down almost immediately upon Jay's touch. "Hey! He stopped crying."

"Because he knows his daddy," Delia mumbled affably. Her voice lowered even more as she spoke to the baby. "Do you know your daddy, Riley? My little Riley? Hmm?"

"Did you stop crying for Daddy?" Jay chuckled tenderly. "Huh, little guy?"

Riley now had two hands carefully fondling his face, making Ash itch to touch him himself. Touch him? Ash couldn't wait to hold him! He gripped the bed railing impatiently, wanting so badly to reach out and brush the side of Riley's face, too, but at the same time he found himself jittery with nervousness.

"And who's that over there?" Delia suddenly whispered, glancing up at Ash. Their eyes met, and Ash felt his sting with oncoming tears. Why couldn't he stop this urge to cry?

"That's your brother," Delia went on, looking back down at Riley. "Do you see Ash? You see your brother?"

She could see Ash was hesitant. "Go on, honey," she permitted.

Blushing, Ash very slowly extended his hand down to the baby. At first, he rubbed Riley's hand and arm, then inched his way to his face. Aside from some oily residue, Riley's skin was soft as silk, perfect. 

"Hi, Riley," he whispered. The baby continued to twitch, but Ash knew it wasn't from his handling. He was sure the baby was more aroused by the cool air of the room and the new feel of the cloth enclosing his body rather than his warm and slightly sweaty fingers.

"What do you think of Riley, Ash?" Jay asked.

Ash tilted his head, letting his dad's question roam his head momentarily as he gazed at his brother. "I love him." Riley let out a tiny moan, a content one, and Ash giggled silently.

Delia's smile was now as lively as it could be, given her condition, and she kissed Riley's forehead benevolently. "I love him, too. I love both my babies."

With the sentimentality of the statement, Ash, entranced with emotion, rested his head on her shoulder. As he cuddled against the moist warmth of her neck and took in her clammy but pleasant scent, he continued to pet Riley.

"Awww, isn't it sweet," Dr. Mazzei said from the end of the bed. "I can never get over seeing this."

Ash glanced up at him and smiled.

"So what do you think?" the doctor inquired Ash. "Has seeing this all tonight made you think about becoming a doctor? I tell ya, you get a lot out of life helping babies get born everyday. It's more rewarding than I can say."

Bashfully, Ash shrugged. "I don't know. I still want to train Pokémon."

"Ugh!" Dr. Mazzei groaned, shaking his head. "I knew the umbilical cord would be too much!"

"No, it wasn't that!" Ash insisted with a laugh. "Besides, I don't think I'm smart enough."

"Oh, give me a break! I almost flunked out of the third grade! And Jaime here—I don't think she even went to high school."

"Dr. Mazzei!" Jaime cried, shoving him with a laugh.

Riley made another babbling sound before he began to squirm again. Delia eased him with a gentle hushing sound, but as wonderful as it was to watch, Ash was also saddened. He knew he couldn't stay there and watch this forever. Before long his mom and brother would have to get taken care of and Ash would have to leave. It wasn't something he was looking forward to at all. Snuggling closer to Delia, he didn't want to leave her side, ever. It pained him to imagine being sent back out into the waiting room, or even allowing Jay to take him home while his mom recuperated at the hospital.

Unfortunately, that time came quicker than he thought.

"Okay, looks like we're gonna have to get this little one a nice warm bath and something in his stomach," Dr. Mazzei said with a sigh. "Can you part with him for just a little while, darling?"

"I suppose I'll have to," Delia smiled sadly.

As Megan delicately took Riley from Delia, Ash stepped back and watched quietly. His mother's exhaustion seemed to return as soon as the baby was out of her arms, and Ash felt bad for her again. He knew that underneath all the joy and relief, she still was feeling poorly, and that she needed to recover. He wasn't ignorant about the effects of the afterbirth, either.

Megan carried the crying baby to the expecting bassinet, and Jay strolled around the side of the bed to Ash. The two grinned at each other before connecting in a hug.

"Did ya have fun?" Jay whispered to his son.

"Yup," Ash whispered back, getting his head rubbed vigorously.

"We gotta let Mom rest now. She's had a very busy day."

"I know."

"We'll go home soon, all right?"

Ash looked up. "We don't have to," he replied, causing Jay's eyes to widen in surprise.

"Okay. Whatever you say, kiddo," he replied, bending over to kiss the top of his head.

The release from the hug meant Ash had one more good-bye to make. How he didn't want to make it, though. Delia was awaiting him, and with a huge smile, Ash swept his arms around her neck.

"I'll see you soon, sweetie," she told him fervently. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Mom. Thanks for letting me be here." Giving her a kiss on the cheek, Ash stood up and slowly shuffled away from her bed. "You get your rest now."

"Yes, sir," Delia saluted.

"Ash," Dr. Mazzei came forward, his hand extended. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Same here," Ash beamed, shaking his hand.

"We sure had a good time, didn't we?"

"It was a blast!"

Taking a deep breath, Dr. Mazzei continued earnestly. "You got to see something very special today. Don't ever forget it."

"I won't," Ash promised. It was one of the easiest promises he had ever made.

"All right. Good luck with your Pokémon journey, son. I'll be looking for you on TV. Maybe someday I'll even see your brother on TV, too."

"Oh, he'll teach him everything he knows," Jay assured, patting Ash on the head.

Ash laughed. "You bet!"

"Heh! You're a cool kid, Ash," Dr. Mazzei winked. "Take care."

"I will! You, too."

As the doctor strode over to see how Delia was faring, Jay escorted Ash to the door. "I'll see you in a little bit," he said, squeezing his shoulder. "Go tell Misty and Brock the good news."

Misty and Brock! Ash couldn't believe that in that whole time he hadn't thought of his friends once. Now that Jay mentioned it, Ash couldn't positively delay another second in seeing them. Wait till they heard about Riley! Especially Misty. Ash knew she would have jumped at the chance to be in the delivery room right beside him. She was just as crazy about Delia's pregnancy as he was.

"I'll go tell them right now!" Ash cried excitedly, energy zapping to his feet. He felt like catapulting out of the room and recklessly racing down the halls, whooping and shouting out the joyous news. Of course, he wouldn't do that, but it would take everything he had to keep himself from doing it.

Glancing around his father once more, Ash hollered out a good-bye to his mother and everyone else in the room, then hastily made his way through the bustling hall. Remarkable for a kid with only two hours of sleep keeping him going. The people and objects he almost rammed into were innumerable, but no one and nothing would stop him or force him off course for even a second. It was amazing that, even after all the events of the last hour, there were still new things to look forward to.

What was even more amazing was that, in the scheme of things, Ash still hadn't forgotten about his empty stomach, and the bagel his friends had hopefully not eaten on him.

A couple of hours later, with the tempo of the ward beginning to pick up, Ash, Misty, and Brock stood outside the nursery, gazing in fondly at the sea of babies behind the glass. It was such an array of activity; but as each baby was doing his or her own thing, whether it be crying demandingly or sleeping through the commotion with hardly a twitch, the kids were engrossed solely with the lone baby boy surrounded on all sides by bassinets of those outfitted in pink, his large, brown eyes roaming curiously and calmly amidst the persistent fuss. Swaddled in a blue blanket and donning the most adorable bed-cap of the same color, Riley seemed perfectly content, innocently unaware of his rapt audience.

Misty squeezed her boyfriend's arm, her eyes glistening. "Ash, he's so cute," she whispered, her voice tottering emotionally. "Look at him."

"I know. He is," Ash replied softly. He didn't need to be told to look more closely as his brother—he hadn't been able to take his eyes off him since they had arrived at the nursery. A smile had not left his face since the delivery, either, and now it was broad as ever. Ash still couldn't come to grips that the baby before him was actually his brother, the little person whose arrival had been like a dream.

Misty chuckled. "He looks just like you."

"Yeah, a real _little_ me," Ash grinned.

"Heh, another Ash Ketchum wreaking havoc in Pallet Town," Brock joked casually. "What will those poor people do."

"Hey, I gotta keep the spirit alive," said Ash, making Misty laugh. "I don't know what Pallet would be without me running amok all over the place."

"Your mom's gonna have her hands _so_ full," Misty snorted.

Ash giggled. "Yeah, if he's anything like me, she's got her work cut out for her."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be totally like you," she said. "But . . . that's not a bad thing," she added matter-of-factly, giving him a nudge. He nudged back, quickly taking his eyes off Riley to send her a smirk.

"Nah," Brock wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "With me as his namesake, I'm sure he'll want to be like _me_ in every way. Look at that, already surrounded by the girls! Way to go, buddy!" he exulted, pumping his fists halfway into the air.

Groaning, Misty rolled her eyes. "You just had to go and curse him like that, didn't you?" she chided Ash.

"Sorry, Misty. But he came out a boy," Ash shrugged sheepishly, even though he was knew she was joking. "That was the deal."

"Well, yeah, I suppose he wouldn't get far in life with the name Riley Misty," Misty cringed. "But the poor kid's gonna have the hardest time getting a date."

"Hey!" Brock cried.

"Oh, shut up," Misty dismissed him. Her brief Brock-teasing was quickly replaced with a colossal smile as she focused her attention back on Riley.

"Hi, Riley!" she cooed to the oblivious, wiggling baby, waving her fingers gently. "Hi, cutie! Over here! I love you! Rileyyyyy!"

"Geez, Misty, you and the Ketchum men," Brock gagged. "I'm surprised you're not breaking into the place and smothering the baby with kisses."

"I _wish_ I could!" Misty squealed giddily, hopping up and down. "He's so cute, I can't wait to hold him in my arms and cuddle him and hug him and squeeze him!" 

The two boys found it hard not to laugh at her elation.

"Well," Brock sighed, "if he's that desirable in his first hours of life, I don't think he'll have any problem finding someone in the future."

"I can't believe this," Ash threw his hands up. "We're already talking about his love life?"

"Leave it to Brock for that," Misty huffed humorously.

Inside, Riley yawned widely, kicking one leg out happily.

"Actually," Ash let out a small laugh, "I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up with someone who looked like you, Misty."

Misty giggled and shook her head. "Could you imagine?"

"Better yet, Misty, go tell your parents to have another girl," bantered Ash.

This time, Misty's huff was for real. "Please! They're already fed up with the four they have."

"That would be really cute, though," Brock considered. "'Course . . . if your mom went and had a boy, that'd be pretty . . . unsuccessful."

"Ohhh, yeah," Misty could not agree more. Looking in at the sleepy baby behind the glass, she wrinkled her nose.

"I dunno. Maybe Lily'd like Riley," she kid. "She has a thing for younger men."

Brock perked up. "Does she have a thing for me?"

"I didn't say she was _desperate_."

"Oh." Brock sagged his shoulders in disappointment—which, after his experience with letdowns, couldn't be distinguished as sincere or not anymore. 

Misty chuckled at his expression. "Aww, I'm just kidding you, Brock," she said, hugging his arm and resting her head on his shoulder affectionately. He didn't seem much bothered after that.

"I just can't wait to see him without this glass between us," Misty moaned a bit sadly, tapping the hard window.

"Don't worry, Misty, you'll get to see Riley soon," Ash told her.

"Yeah, they can't keep him from us forever," Brock added.

"Oh Ash, what was he like when you first saw him?" Misty asked, turning to Ash with sanguine eyes. "Was he soft and warm, and did he smell really nice and was he cooing and everything?"

"Actually, he was kinda slimy and didn't smell too good, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs," he recalled. He had to smile at that; he wasn't going to forget the way Riley looked at birth for the rest of his life.

"Oh," Misty scowled.

"Duh, Misty, what did you expect?" Brock laughed.

Misty blushed. "I dunno," she smiled, shrugging. "I guess I'm too used to babies looking the way Riley does now. Look at him! He's so little, and soooooo adorable!" Her voice drifted off at the end as she pressed her hands and face against the glass like a car-window decoration.

The three took the second to gaze at Riley quietly. Ash breathed relishingly, the scenes of the delivery replaying in his mind as he watched his brother yawn. The only thing as remarkable as the birth itself was the exertion Delia had performed so bravely for it to occur. Ash swore he would never be able to look at his mother ever again without seeing the will, devotion, sacrifice, and fabulous endurance she possessed.

The baby's eyes were beginning to look heavy; he would definitely be asleep soon. His nodding off seemed to be hypnotizing the kids additionally, or perhaps it was his delicate charm alone that was doing the job.

"Ash," Misty uttered, barely above a whisper but deeply fervent. Her hand descended to link with his. "What was it like to see that?"

Ash's eyes never left Riley. "It was . . . the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"Really? More amazing than some of the things we've seen on our journey?" Misty asked inaudibly.

Pausing for a moment thoughtfully, Ash smiled and rubbed her hand with his thumb lovingly. "More amazing than _anything_."

"Wow," Misty breathed after an insightful pause.

"I know what you mean, Ash," Brock said. "Been there, done that, too." Ash and Misty spun to face him, intrigued.

"Really?" Misty marveled. "You saw your mom give birth, too?"

"Sure have," Brock replied. "As a matter of fact . . . I saw her give birth in my living room."

The kids' jaws dropped incredulously.

"Brock, get outta town!" Misty exclaimed, grinning. "Your mom had a home-birth?"

"Well . . . not an intentional one," he responded humbly. By now he fully had Ash and Misty's undivided attention.

"_What?_" they cried at once.

Brock chuckled. "Yeah. My mom had my brother Keagan when they were walking out the door for the hospital. I remember that night like it was yesterday. One minute we were rushing around like crazy to get Mom ready, and the next minute . . . there he was."

He had to stop for a second to guffaw as Ash and Misty's expressions were just too priceless. Their eyes were as large and round as a Venonat's, and their mouths matched the shape perfectly as well.

"A-a-and how long was your mom in labor?" Misty stammered.

Brock shrugged. "I dunno. Two hours, maybe?"

"Two hours!? How in the world did that happen?" Misty squeaked, Ash nodding as if to ask the same question.

"Well, time of labor gets shorter with each kid. Keagan was number eight. By that time, I guess . . . Mom's body was . . . a little more prepared?"

"Oh my _God_," Misty shook her head in astonishment.

"Brock, your mom had way too many kids," Ash snickered.

Brock rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. I can really remember it; Mom just _stopped_ in the doorway and said, '_I'm having the baby.'_ Keagan was there within—I'm not kidding—five minutes. My dad almost passed out."

"I can imagine." Misty turned her wide eyes back on Riley.

"It was really something to see, though," Brock mused. "Mom had no difficulty. She barely even had to push. I remember that."

"So what about nine and ten?" Ash wanted to know.

"The twins? Planned delivery—C-section. I didn't watch that."

"Okay, _thank you!_" Misty held her hands up, arresting the conversation. "Enough with . . . babies coming out of bodies. I just wanna stand here and watch Riley now, please."

Ash and Brock laughed, and did just that. Riley was still awake, and suddenly Ash caught sight of Megan in the nursery. The two's eyes met, and Ash waved happily at the nurse. Returning the gesture, and very pleasantly surprised to see the spectators, Megan quickly strode over to Riley and lifted the baby carefully out of the bassinet.

"Oh my God, is she bringing Riley over!?" Misty squealed, practically yanking Ash's arm out of its socket with excitement.

"Forget about that," Brock bubbled, a blush streaking across his nose. "Just as long as _she's_ coming over!"

"Stay away, Brock," Ash admonished. "I think she's married."

Brock slumped. "Hmph. Not surprised." 

His blush, however, was not going anywhere fast, especially when Megan brought Riley right up to the glass. Nevertheless, his eyes fell directly on the baby, who was now more alert and inquisitive from being taken from his bed. Ash felt Misty grip his hand tighter once again, and he responded with the same as he took another good look at his brother.

"Hi, Riley," Ash and Misty said in unison, then laughed in spite of themselves. The three waved lightly at the baby, whom Megan was propping up for them at eye-level. Riley's eyes transfixed on the trio, engaged and interested, but it was still evident that he was tired. Only a few moments later, the infant's tranquil face twisted, and he began to cry. Ash, Misty, and Brock winced as Megan did the same, but the nurse smiled as she began to rock Riley in her arms.

Ash laughed, partly out of the awkwardness of the baby's discontent. "Oops! Guess Riley got a good look at your face, huh, Misty?" he jabbed her lightly.

"Excuse me!?" Misty exclaimed, turning on Ash. "What's that supposed to mean? And how do you know it was my face he saw, huh? Maybe he got a good look at his dopey brother's! Didja ever think of that?"

She got right into his face with the rebuttal, which Ash slunk away from, overtaken by hysterics. Misty was drawn into laughter as well.

"Guys, guys, shush!" Brock ordered in a whisper, his finger at his lips. "We're in a hospital."

"Yeah, well, I was quiet until Ash started cracking stupid jokes!" Misty replied.

Ash's eyes widened. "Who said that was a joke?"

Misty responded by giving him a forceful shove. After staggering, Ash laughed some more, then gave her a hug, which Misty didn't exactly fight to break free of.

"I'll remember that," she grumbled nonetheless.

"I know," Ash sighed, squeezing her close.

Megan bounced the cranky Riley in her arms until he settled down. She threw a glance at the kids and mouthed: "Tired." They all nodded, and the nurse continued to jiggle the baby some more before placing him in his crib. 

Misty watched this all with moist eyes; there was just something about a newborn baby that made her feel a certain way. Not many people close to her family had had babies recently. It was new and special. And as it were, there was something about Riley in particular, and seeing Ash's priceless reactions towards him, that made her mind wander, made her look beyond where she was at this time. She couldn't help seeing the display of affection from one to the other, not to mention the sheer resemblance of Ash in Riley, and ponder when she would find herself in this situation again, only in a role much different.

"Hey, Ash," she said softly, resting her head against his.

"Yeah?"

"Being here and looking at Riley . . . it gets me excited. We're gonna do this someday—have a baby. Right?"

Ash's eyes roamed over, and he smiled. "Yeah. Someday."

"We got a lot of years to go," she said a bit longingly. "Kinda wish it was sooner," she added with a small laugh.

Ash gave her a silly cringe, but deep down he felt the same way. Well, almost. Even though he couldn't deny how he felt about her and how great it was to witness the miracle of birth, the subject still sent a sensitive tingle though his body.

"At least . . ." Misty looked to the ceiling as she calculated, "seven years."

His eyebrows raised, Ash nodded. "Seven years," he echoed. Seven whole years: it seemed like an eternity. He never doubted their future, though.

"What are you guys talking about?" Brock suddenly said, giving them an odd face. "You could do that now if you wanted to."

He tried all he could to hold back his smile and laughter as Ash and Misty faced him, their jaws dropped incredulously.

"You know, biologically speaking . . ." he continued purposely.

"Oh my God, Brock, you are so _disgusting!_" Misty screeched, lashing out and giving him a sharp smack on the shoulder. Brock yelped, then let his laughter loose as he tried to shield the following blows from Misty's fist.

"I can't believe you said that, that was so awful!" she yelled, though with a smile of disbelief, each word punctuated by another punch to his arm. "You are the sickest person on earth, I can't believe it! You are _so _gross! Eww, eww, ewww!"

"Oww! Geez, Misty, calm down! I'm just telling the truth!" Brock guffawed, now taken to running around the hall to maneuver out of her striking range. She just chased after him while Ash doubled over in hysterics.

"I don't care if it's the truth! Keep it to yourself, you pig!" Misty was laughing now, too, and finally relented from pounding Brock. Heaving from the ruckus, she returned to her spot beside Ash.

"You know, Misty, it kinda defeats the purpose to beat up Brock in a hospital," Ash noted.

"I'll beat 'im up anywhere! You think I care?" Misty replied. "Especially when he shares his filthy thoughts with the rest of us."

"What filthy thoughts?" Brock asked innocently, returning. "And what do you mean, sharing? I'm sure Ash was thinking the same thing."

Ash's eyes widened, and Misty cocked her head proudly. "Ash doesn't think those things."

Brock huffed. "That's what you think," he mumbled under his breath.

"Oh, really?" Misty sang impudently. "Well, let's see what Ash says."

As the attention was suddenly on him (and requiring an response that would humiliate him in front of either Misty or Brock, depending on the answer), Ash quickly grinned and turned back towards the nursery window. "Ohhhh, look at Riley! Isn't he cute?"

His diversion worked. The subject was instantly dropped. The thought lingered on in Ash's head, however. Brock wasn't entirely inaccurate in his assumption. Although the particular topic at hand still made him squirm, experiencing what he had that night opened Ash's mind in a way he never thought imaginable. Suddenly, the possibilities of his relationship with Misty became clearer, more real. Someday, it would be more than just going to the movies, holding hands, delighting in a kiss like it was the ultimate extreme. As the years went on, his connection with Misty would change. It would involve new things. Ash knew he wasn't ready for these things yet, but he would be someday. It frightened him a bit, but it also amazed him. Perhaps the next baby he would be looking in on would be his own.

Suddenly feeling confident, he took Misty's hand and whispered in her ear, "So, what do you think we'll name our baby someday?"

A capricious smile spreading her lips, Misty learned in to whisper back, "If it's a boy? Ashton Jacey Ketchum, Jr."

Ash grimaced. "Ugh, please no."

"Annnnd if it's a girl," Misty continued, still in a whisper, ". . . Pearl."

Narrowing his eyes, Ash sighed. "I guess waiting those seven years isn't going to be that hard. At least we'll have time to think up some _real_ names."

Misty gave him a look, then let it be and planted a kiss on his cheek. Ash blushed slightly, took a deep breath, then whispered, "I kinda wish it were sooner, though, too."

Seeing her smile curve tenderly, as well as the lingering delightful sensation of her warm lips on his cheek, hungered him for just a little more. Misty seemed to have the same desire as they both tilted their heads and connected for another kiss. This one was certainly more than a one-second peck.

"Oh no, not again," Brock groaned.

Inside, Riley's eyes drifted peacefully shut, and the tiny baby fell fast asleep.

****

THE END

__

Oh my God, I can't believe this is it. I'm writing the final author's notes for Blue Heaven…

First off, I again apologize for the long wait, but you can probably understand that this was a difficult chapter for me to write. Not just with the delivery procedures, but with the intricate emotions as well. Please, if I screwed up in any way about the going-ons in a delivery room, or if I was off in describing the childbirth itself, don't hold it against me. I've never been blessed with the chance to witness such a remarkable event like Ash was. ^^ I researched it and tried to make it as realistic as possible, to the best of my ability. But I'm sure not all of what I wrote was entirely correct. If you want to point something out, I can't change the story, but it's nice to learn something new everyday! ^_^

Secondly, I do hope that you, my readers, enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was a lot of hard work, a lot of sacrifice, and a lot of anxiety, but it was also a lot of fun. Thank you all for everything; your comments mean the world to me, and your support was greatly appreciated. There was a time and a place when I didn't think I was going to continue with this story, but it was because of you that I did. And I owe many of you for that. 

****

Millions of thanks to my most recent reviewers, in no particular order: Dragoness, Llyxius, Marlex, E2K, Car, cultnirvana, mozey-chan, Violet Emeralds, Ari Rockefeller, innominate, Uriel Martin, Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu, Ilex the Elder, Mr. Pokemaster, Kurokii, Dancergal06, Silent Sigh, Shadow Fox, LittLetriXta, and many, many wonderful others! If you didn't make this list, that doesn't mean I forgot about you! ^_^ Many thanks to my past reviewers, too! Also thank-you shout-outs to Latonya Wright, Pokeshipper25, Mony, Kasumi Yawa, and Mitsu—I know you're reading! I love you guys so much! ~_^ Thanks to **all** my readers—I know there are many of you out there! You are all the best.

It was also difficult to write this because, being the final chapter of my trilogy, ending it was tremendously bittersweet. There won't be a sequel to this, or at least one as lengthy, but I'm not entirely willing to let go of Jay yet. LOL I may at some point in time write some Stars Fell on Pallet Town one-shots or short-stories. I'm also opening the floor to ideas and requests. If you want to see something happen in this universe, whether it be for Ash and Misty, Delia and Jay, Brock, or even little Riley, review or email me. I'm also eager to write a story that takes place even before the events of SFOPT. But I need to get my brain inspired and working again! ^_^

Once again, I can't stop thanking you guys for everything. I'm going to miss this story, I really am. It's my baby. ^_^ See all of you later, in some shape or form…

And keep loving our little boy! ^O^


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